BX  5055  . B2 5  1923 
Balleine,  G.  R.  1873-1966. 
The  layman's  history  of  the 
Church  of  England 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/laymanshistoryofOOball 


THE  LAYMAN’S 
HISTORY  OF 

THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND 


THE  LAYMAN’S 
HISTORY  OF 

THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND 


G.  R.  BALLEINE,  M. A. 

VICAR  OF  ST.  JAMES’S,  BERMONDSEY 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


THIRD  IMPRESSION 


LONGMANS,  GREEN  AND  CO, 

39  PATERNOSTER  ROW,  LONDON,  E.C.  4 
NEW  YORK,  TORONTO 
BOMBAY,  CALCUTTA  AND  MADRAS 
I923 


I 


Made  in  Great  Britain 


FOREWORD. 


“  Church  History  is  dry  stuff.  No  one  but  a  fossil 
could  take  any  interest  in  Canons  of  Cloveshoo  or 
Constitutions  of  Clarendon  or  even  in  the  Advertise¬ 
ments  of  Elizabeth.  I  would  as  soon  sit  down  to 
study  a  work  on  Conic  Sections.”  So  scoffed  my 
friend  the  Churchwarden.  Yet  he  is  a  man  who  is 
fond  of  reading  and  keenly  interested  in  his  Church. 
And  there  are  many  who  would  agree  with  him. 
This  book  is  written  with  the  hope  of  helping  some 
of  them  to  see  that  they  are  suffering  from  a  most 
extraordinary  delusion.  The  religious  develop¬ 
ment  of  a  great  nation,  and  that  nation  our  own, 
must  be  a  subject  of  absorbing  interest,  if  we  can 
approach  it  from  the  right  point  of  view. 

How  shall  we  approach  it  ?  Some  Church  His¬ 
tories  have  been  written  from  the  standpoint  of  an 
Archbishop’s  Commissary.  They  deal  with  Kings 
and  Councils  and  Conferences,  with  the  business  of 
Bishops  and  Archdeacons.  They  move  in  an  at¬ 
mosphere  immensely  remote  from  anything  that 
the  average  Churchman  ever  comes  in  touch  with. 
But  the  present  book  deals  with  the  Church  as  it 
is  seen  by  the  man  in  the  pew,  not  by  the  man  in 
the  mitre.  It  keeps  a  typical  English  parish  in  the 


VI 


FOREWORD 


centre  of  the  stage.  It  tries  to  trace  the  religion 
and  worship  of  an  ordinary  village  congregation 
through  the  different  centuries.  It  aims  at  show- 
ing  how  the  things  with  which  every  Churchman 
is  familiar,  gradually  grew  to  be  what  they  are  to¬ 
day.  It  does  not  ignore  what  Bishops  and  Kings 
were  doing  at  headquarters,  but  it  studies  these 
matters,  not  through  the  debates  of  the  Council 
Chamber,  but  through  the  results  which  followed 
in  the  actual  life  of  the  parishes. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  Durford  and 
its  daughter  parish  Monksland  are  purely  imagin¬ 
ary  places,  and  so  their  vicars,  squires,  and  villagers 
have  never  lived  in  the  flesh  ;  but  they  are  typical 
of  men  and  women  who  were  very  much  alive  in 
hundreds  of  actual  villages,  and  every  event  placed 
in  Durford  did  literally  happen  somewhere  exactly 
as  related.  Even  the  Churchwardens’  Accounts 
are  authentic,  though  borrowed  from  other  parishes. 
On  the  other  hand  every  name  and  date  connected 
with  the  world  outside  our  two  fictitious  villages 
is  sober,  scientific  history,  into  which  no  touch  of 
fancy  has  been  allowed  to  stray. 

If  this  little  book  helps  one  reader  to  feel  the 
fascination  of  the  story  of  how  God’s  labourers 
have  toiled  through  some  sixteen  centuries  to 
plough  this  stubborn  English  soil,  so  that  the  seeds 
of  T ruth  may  get  a  chance  to  grow  ;  if  it  moves  one 
reader  to  bestir  himself  and  put  his  hand  to  the 
plough,  the  writer  will  be  satisfied. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  How  the  Gospel  came  to  Durford,  and  was  driven  out  i 

II.  How  the  Church  of  England  came  into  being  .  .  1 1 

III.  How  men  tried  to  fly  from  the  World,  and  how  the 

World  followed  them  .  .  .  .  .  .21 

IV.  How  the  Bishop  of  Rome  gained  supreme  power  in 

England  ........  36 

V.  How’  men  tried  to  reform  the  Church  from  Without  and 

from  Within  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .52 

VI.  How  Uurford’s  sixth  Church  was  built  and  used  .  .  73 

VII.  How  the  Church  of  England  got  rid  of  the  Pope,  the 

Monks,  and  much  Superstition  .  .  .  .91 

VIII.  How  the  Reformation  was  at  last  victorious  .  .  .  108 

IX.  How  the  Church  of  England  had  to  fight  for  its  life 

against  Rome  and  Geneva  .  .  .  .  .125 

X.  How  Geneva  gained  the  mastery  .  .  .  .146 

XI.  How  Geneva  lost  its  opportunity,  and  Rome  was  finally 

defeated . 164 

XII.  How  the  Church  went  to  sleep  .  .  .  .  .180 

XIII.  How  the  Church  awoke  from  slumber  .  .  .  .189 


vii 


■«  ' 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

FAGE 

Durford's  first  Christian  Church . 3 

Augustine  preaching  before  Ethelbert.  Longmans  Historical  Wall 

Pictures  ............  10 

Old  Preaching  Cross.  From  Photo  by  Frith  &  Co.  .....  14 

Benedictine  Monks  in  Choir.  From  a  MS.  Psalter  in  British  Museum  23 

A  Viking  Raid.  Longmans'  Historical  Wall  Pictures  ....  27 

Procession  bearing  Relics.  From  Longmans'  Historical  Illustrations  .  31 

Shrine  of  St.  Alban  ...........  33 

Anglo-Saxon  Church  at  Bradford-on-Avon.  From  Longmans'  Historical 

Illustrations  ...........  34 

Norman  Chapel  in  the  Tower  of  London . 38 

Cistercian  Monks  Ploughing  with  Oxen.  From  Longmans'  Historical 

Illustrations  ...........  40 

An  Ecclesiastical  Court.  From  a  MS.  in  British  Museum  ...  43 

Penance  of  Henry  II.  From  a?i  ancient  painting  on  glass  ...  46 

Pilgrims  leaving  Canterbury.  From  a  fifteenth  century  MS.  in  British 

Museum  ....  •  48 

Administering  Extreme  Unction.  From  “  The  Art  of  Good  Lyving  and 

Good  Dying''  1492  ..........  61 

John  Wyclif . 63 

Wyclif  sending  out  the  Poor  Priests . 65 

Grouped  Lancet  Lights.  From  Longmans'  Historical  Illustrations  .  74 

Decorated  Window.  From  Longmans'  Historical  Illustrations  .  .  75 

Perpendicular  Window,  York  Minster  .......  77 

Plan  of  Durford  Church  ..........  78 

Mass  for  the  Dead.  From  a  British  Museum  MS.  of  about  1450  .  .  81 

Wall  Painting,  Chaldon  Church,  Surrey.  (Date  about  1200.)  Photo, 

Rev.  G.  E.  Belcher  ..........  83 


IX 


X 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Easter  Sepulchre,  Hawton.  From  Photo  by  Frith  Co.  ...  85 

A  Mediaeval  Confirmation.  From  “  The  Art  of  Good  Lyving  and  Good 

Dying,"  1492  ...........  88 

Lollard  doing  Penance.  From  Strutt' s  Manners  and  Customs .  .  ,  92 

Page  from  Tindale’s  New  Testament  .......  96 

The  Forbidden  Book  ..........  97 

Caricature  of  a  Monk.  From  MS.  in  British  Museum  ....  102 

How  the  Abbeys  were  left  ..........  104 

Pilgrims  worshipping  at  a  Shrine . 106 

Archbishop  Cranmer  .......  ...  111 

A  Martyr  on  his  way  to  the  Stake  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .118 

John  Calvin  . . 130 

The  Asse  in  Autority.  A  Puritan  Caricature  of  an  Ecclesiastical  Court. 

From  Batman's  “  Chry stall  Glasse  of  Christian  Reformation ,"  1569  .  133 

Ciodly  Zeal  Plucked  out  of  his  Pulpit.  A  Puritan  Caricature.  From  Bat¬ 
man'  s  “  Chrystall  Glasse  of  Christian  Reformation,"  1569  .  .  136 

Archbishop  Laud.  From  Tout' s  History  of  Great  Britain,  Book  II.  .  152 

Puritan  in  the  Pillory  .  . ,  . 15b 

Destruction  of  Communion  Rails.  Illustration  by  Hollar  .  .  .  159 

Dog  Tongs . 162 

Sir  Roger  going  to  Church.  By  C.  R.  Leslie,  A. R.A.  ....  182 

The  Sleeping  Congregation.  From  print  by  Wm.  Hogarth  .  .  .  187 

A  Village  Choir,  by  T.  Webster,  R.A.  From  print  in  the  Victoria  and 

Albert  Museum  ......  ....  194 

The  Village  Pastor.  By  W.  P.  Frith . 196 


CHAPTER  I. 


HOW  THE  GOSPEL  CAME  TO  DURFORD  AND  WAS  DRIVEN 

OUT. 

We  are  going  to  study  together  the  story  of  the  Church 
Durford  England.  To  do  so  let  us  fix  our  eyes  on  the 
on  the  Kentish  village  of  Durford.  True,  there  is  no 
Dur-  such  place  on  the  map,  in  Kent  or  any  other 
county ;  but  we  will  take  a  typical  village,  and  call  it  by 
that  name ;  and  as  we  watch  the  changes  which  come  to 
one  little  church  and  parish,  we  shall  gain  some  idea  of 
what  is  happening  through  the  country  as  a  whole ;  for, 
until  the  nineteenth  century  crowded  us  into  cities,  the 
great  majority  of  Englishmen  have  always  lived  in  vil¬ 
lages. 

On  a  dark  spring  afternoon,  somewhere  between  the 

British  year  29  an<3  ^ie  year  33>  Son  of  God  died 
Pagan-  on  the  Cross  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world, 
ism.  but  XDurforcl,  three  thousand  miles  away,  knew 
nothing  of  that.  It  was  only  a  group  of  wattled  huts, 
fenced  in  with  an  earthen  wall,  buried  in  the  depths  of  a 
great  forest.  Its  tall,  yellow-haired  inhabitants,  Maelgwn, 
Anllech,  and  their  kin,  worshipped  a  hundred  obscure 
deities,  gods  of  the  streams  and  hills  and  forests,  and 
the  memory  of  the  cruel  rites  with  which  they  tried  to 
woo  them,  still  lingers  in  the  local  superstitions.  Even 
in  the  present  year  of  grace  the  boldest  of  the  village 
hoydens  will  not  dare  to  cross  the  stepping-stones  on 
Midsummer  Day,  because  the  Dur  is  held  on  that  day  to 

I 


2 


Pagan  Britain. 


be  craving  for  a  victim  ;  but  she  does  not  know  that  her 
fear  dates  back  to  those  old  heathen  times,  when  the 
white-robed  Druid  came  to  the  village  every  Midsummer 
Day,  and  drowned  a  maiden  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  Spirit 
of  the  Brook.  For  the  Celtic  race  even  in  those  days 
was  passionately  religious,  and  Maelgwn  and  Anllech 
saw  gods  lurking  in  the  simplest  things  around  them. 
If  a  spring  gushed  up  in  the  forest,  if  the  waters  of  a 
stream  began  to  fail,  if  a  tree  grew  larger  than  its  fellows, 
if  a  boar  defied  the  huntsmen,  assuredly  a  god  was  there, 
a  god  who  was  calling  for  sacrifice,  and  the  best  of  all 
sacrifices  was  a  man.  Human  victims  dangled  from  the 
branches  of  every  sacred  tree.  Human  flesh  was  mingled 
with  the  corn  before  it  was  sown.  And,  if  the  lesser  gods 
required  this,  how  much  more  did  the  great  ones,  Belenos, 
the  sun-god,  Badbaatha,  the  war-goddess,  who  tore  the 
bodies  of  the  slain,  or  Andrasta,  the  goddess  of  victory, 
who  was  worshipped  by  the  impaling  of  women.  Every 
prisoner  taken  in  war  was  always  offered  in  sacrifice. 
When  this  supply  failed,  victims  were  drawn  from  the 
aged  and  the  children  and  the  women.  Sometimes  in  an 
hour  of  great  emergency  the  chief  himself  was  sacrificed. 
At  certain  seasons  there  were  horrible  orgies  of  religious 
cannibalism,  when  the  villagers  feasted  on  the  flesh  of  the 
victims  they  had  slain.  Such  was  the  religion  of  Durford 
as  our  story  opens,  a  religion  of  darkness,  a  religion  of 
terror,  a  religion  of  blood. 

Ten  years  later  (a.D.  43)  an  event  occurred  which 
The  changed  the  whole  current  of  our  country’s  life. 
Coming  An  army  of  50,000  men  came  marching  up  the 
of  the  rough  track  which  led  from  Durford  to  the  sea. 
Romans.  Romans  had  arrived 1  to  make  Britain  a 

province  of  their  world-wide  empire.  They  brought 
with  them  peace  and  justice  and  civilization.  Human 

1  Julius  Ccesar’s  raid  ninety  years  before  had  left  no  permanent  re¬ 
sults. 


Roman  Britain 


3 


sacrifice  was  now  forbidden.  Roads  were  made,  bridges 
built,  law  courts  established.  Merchants,  soldiers,  and 
civil  officials  moved  ever  backward  and  forward,  keep¬ 
ing  the  village  in  constant  touch  with  the  world  across 
the  sea.  Maelgwn  and  Anllech  began  to  wear  togas 
and  to  talk  bad  Latin.  But  the  Gospel  did  not  yet 
reach  our  distant  island.  The  old  Paganism  became 
less  cruel,  but  it  retained  its  power.  Some  of  the 


Durford’s  first  Christian  Church. 


people  added  to  it  the  worship  of  the  gods  of  Rome. 
Altars  to  Mars  and  Jupiter  and  Neptune  began  to  make 
their  appearance.  But  another  hundred  and  fifty  years 
had  to  pass  away  before  we  find  any  trace  of  Christi¬ 
anity  in  Britain. 

How  did  the  True  Faith  come  to  Durford  ?  No  one 
can  say.  Was  it  that  some  legionary,  who  had  learned 

I  * 


4 


The  British  Church. 


The 
Com;ng 
of  the 
Gospel. 


the  Truth  in  Italy,  married  one  of  our  village  girls  and 
settled  in  the  place?  Was  the  builder  of  that 
Roman  villa,  whose  tessellated  floor  can  still  be 
seen  in  the  vicarage  garden,  a  well-to-do  Chris¬ 
tian  from  Gaul,  who  had  fled  here  to  escape  the 
persecution  which  was  raging  in  Lyons  and  Vienne? 
Was  it  that  some  merchant  travelled  south  with  dusky 
British  pearls,  and  there  found  the  Pearl  of  Great  Price? 
In  these  and  a  hundred  other  ways  Christianity  began  to 
filter  into  the  country.  The  seed  took  root  and  sprang 
up  secretly,  we  know  not  how.  All  that  we  do  know 
is  that,  by  the  beginning  of  the  third  century,  Christians 
in  distant  lands — Tertullian  in  Africa,  for  example  (a.D. 
208),  and  Origen  in  Asia  (A.D.  239) — write  of  the  Church 
in  Britain  as  already  in  existence.  Many  a  village  like 
Durford  by  this  time  had  its  little  wattled  church,  and 
though  large  numbers  of  the  people  still  remained  pagan, 
and  built  the  altars  which  we  dig  up  sometimes  dedi¬ 
cated  “To  the  Old  Gods,”  the  more  intelligent  and  open- 
minded  were  rapidly  being  won  to  the  Faith. 

Let  us  visit  Durford  Church  one  Sunday  morning.  It 
Public  ls  sunrise>  and  all  the  Christians  in  the  village 
Wor-  have  assembled  for  public  worship.  Two  priests 
ship.  stand  at  the  Lord’s  Table,  for  the  British  Church 
allows  no  one  but  a  bishop  to  administer  the  Communion 
alone.  They  wear  no  special  vestments  ;  their  dress  is 
exactly  the  same  as  that  of  the  laymen  around.1  They  are 
married  men,  earning  their  living  on  weekdays  as  carpen¬ 
ters  or  masons  ;  but  they  have  each  been  duly  ordained  by 
a  bishop.  The  service  is  in  Latin,  a  language  which  all 


1  The  first  outward  mark  distinguishing  clergy  from  laity  was  the 
tonsure,  i.e.  the  shaving  of  the  front  of  the  head  up  to  a  line  drawn  from 
ear  to  ear.  This  was  the  badge  of  slavery,  and  was  adopted  by  the  clergy 
as  a  sign  that  they  were  bondservants  of  Christ.  The  practice  began 
about  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  century.  A  special  vestment  for  use  in 
Church  was  not  introduced  till  the  seventh  century,  and  then  only  through 
the  clergy  retaining  for  their  ministrations  the  old-fashioned,  flowing, 
secular  robes,  which  were  going  out  of  use  in  ordinary  daily  life. 


Diocletian' s  Persecution. 


5 


can  understand.  The  preliminary  service  for  the  catechu¬ 
mens1  has  just  ended,  and  all  who  are  not  full  members 
of  the  Church  are  bidden  to  withdraw.  The  unbaptized, 
the  children,  the  excommunicated  quietly  file  out,  and 
the  Liturgy  of  the  Faithful,  the  Communion  Service 
begins.  We  notice  several  strange  customs — the  cere¬ 
monial  combing  of  the  priests’  hair,  the  kiss  of  peace 
which  all  Church  members  have  to  give  one  another,  but 
there  are  no  non-communicants  ;  the  laity  receive  the  Cup 
as  well  as  the  Consecrated  Bread  ;  the  ritual  which  in  later 
years  grew  up  around  the  Mass  has  hardly  yet  begun  to 
obscure  and  complicate  the  rite. 

But  Christianity  was  still  a  forbidden  religion,  and  soon 
Persecu-  there  came  a  rough  reminder  of  the  fact.  On 
tion-  the  Feast  of  the  God  of  Boundaries,  A.D.  303, 
an  appropriate  day  for  putting  an  end  to  the  Christian 
superstition,  Diocletian  the  Emperor  issued  an  edict  that 
all  churches  were  to  be  demolished,  all  copies  of  the 
Scriptures  burnt,  and  all  Christians  outlawed.  Britain 
was  an  outlying  province,  and  Constantine  the  Governor 
not  unfriendly,  and  so  the  persecution  here  was  milder 
than  abroad,  but  Durford  Church  was  levelled  to  the 
ground,  like  all  the  other  churches,  and  soon  news 
came  that  the  first  British  martyr  had  laid  down  his  life 
for  Christ.  In  every  Christian  home  the  story  was  re- 
peated  how  Alban  of  Verulam,  while  still  a  pagan,  hid  a 
fugitive  priest  ;  how,  as  he  watched  his  guest’s  behaviour, 
he  too  became  a  Christian  ;  how  he  put  on  the  priest’s 
cloak  and  gave  himself  up  in  his  stead  ;  how,  when 
ordered  to  sacrifice  or  die,  he  joyfully  chose  death  ;  and, 
when  he  and  his  guards  could  not  cross  the  bridge  for 
the  crowd  of  spectators,  waded  through  the  water,  so 
eager  was  he  to  gain  the  martyr’s  crown. 

This  was  almost  the  last  attempt  of  Roman  Paganism 

1  I.e.  toe  who  are  being  prepared  for  baptism. 


6 


The  Withdrawal  of  Rome. 


to  stamp  out  Christianity.  In  313  the  Emperor  Constan- 
The  tine  himself  became  a  Christian,  and  the  edict  of 
Coun-  Milan  gave  freedom  of  religion  to  every  province 
Cll?*  of  the  Empire.  Many  who  had  fallen  from  the 
faith  in  the  hour  of  persecution  now  asked  to  be  re¬ 
admitted  to  the  Church.  What  should  be  done  with  them  ? 
To  decide  this  a  Council  was  called  at  Arles  (A.D.  314), 
and  at  this  three  British  bishops  were  present.  British 
bishops  attended  later  a  Council  at  Rimini  (a.d.  359). 
And  this  is  important,  because  it  shows  that  all  Western 
Christendom  recognized  the  British  Church  as  orthodox 
and  duly  organized.  Her  bishops  were  summoned  as  a 
matter  of  course  to  the  greatest  councils,  and  met  the 
bishops  of  other  countries  on  perfectly  equal  terms. 

For  three  hundred  and  sixty  years  Britain  had  been 
The  part  and  parcel  of  the  Roman  Empire,  but  now 
drawal  Durford  began  to  see  a  strange  and  ominous  sight, 
of  the  First  one  legion,  and  then  another,  marched  down 
Legions,  the  village  street  on  its  way  to  the  sea,  and  no 
fresh  ones  ever  came  to  take  their  place.  The  Mistress 
of  the  world  was  fighting  at  home  for  her  very  life. 
Alaric  and  his  Goths  were  pouring  into  Italy,  and  Rome 
had  no  troops  to  spare  to  defend  her  distant  colonies. 
In  407  the  last  legion  set  sail,  and  Britain  was  left  to  pro¬ 
tect  herself  as  best  she  could. 

While  the  civil  officials  were  grappling  with  the  difficul- 
Peia-  ties  of  the  new  position,  the  Church  was  troubled 
gianism.  with  the  heresy  of  the  Pelagians,  whose  “vain  talk” 
is  still  denounced  in  our  Thirty-Nine  Articles.  Pelagius 
was  himself  a  Briton,  “  a  big,  fat  dog  from  Albion,  bloated 
with  Scotch  porridge,”  St.  Jerome  calls  him  in  an  indig¬ 
nant  letter.  Like  many  heretics  he  was  a  good  man,  but 
he  believed  that  man  could  be  good  without  the  grace  of 
God :  whereas  the  Church  has  always  taught  that  “  we 
have  no  power  to  do  good  works  pleasant  and  acceptable 
to  God  without  the  grace  of  God  preventing  us  (i.e.  first 


The  Pelagian  Heresy. 


7 


putting  the  thought  into  our  minds),  and  working  with 
us,  when  we  have  that  good  will  ”.  Pelagius  taught  his 
heresy  in  Rome  and  Carthage  and  the  East,  but  there 
came  to  Durford  the  priest  Agricola,  whom  Pelagius  had 
sent  to  spread  his  views  in  Britain.  Here,  as  elsewhere, 
he  met  with  a  mixed  reception.  Some  of  the  richer  folk 
inclined  to  the  new  doctrines,  but  the  clergy  and  the  poorer 
people  stood  fast  for  the  old  Faith. 

During  the  next  twenty  years  the  Pelagian  views  dis- 
Visit  of  tinctly  gained  ground.  But  one  day  there  arrived 
Ger-  in  the  village  (A.D.  429)  a  tall  and  dignified 
manus.  stranger,  Germanus,  Bishop  of  Auxerre,  one  of 
the  greatest  orators  of  the  age.  The  British  bishops 
had  invited  him  over  to  help  them  to  check  the  heresy. 
He  preached  in  church,  and  then  went  out,  and  preached 
in  the  open  air,  and,  as  a  Breton  by  birth,  he  was  able  to 
speak  to  the  people  in  the  British  tongue.  With  his 
companion  the  Bishop  of  Troyes,  he  passed  from  village 
to  village,  and  soon  the  Pelagian  leaders  felt  their  followers 
slipping  from  them.  They  challenged  the  bishops  to  a 
public  debate  in  the  city  of  Verulam,  but  that  was  their 
undoing.  When  the  day  came,  they  spoke  first,  and 
then  Germanus  answered  in  such  a  flood  of  oratory,  that 
the  multitudes  who  had  flocked  to  listen  were  won  to  his 
side  in  a  moment,  and  his  chief  difficulty  was  not  to  con¬ 
vince  them  of  the  danger  of  heresy,  but  to  prevent  their 
tearing  the  Pelagian  speakers  to  pieces. 

This  is  the  last  glimpse  we  get  of  the  British  Church  in 

The  this  part  of  England.  For  suddenly  a  far  more 

Coming  serious  problem  arose.  The  question  was  no 

of  the  longer  whether  orthodox  views  on  the  Doctrine  of 
Pirates  ^ 

Grace  should  prevail,  but  whether  there  should  be 
a  Christian  Church  at  all  in  Britain.  Even  before  the 
Romans  withdrew,  two  sets  of  marauders  had  been  giving 
trouble.  The  Piets,  ©r  painted  folk,  of  Scotland  were 
ever  swarming  over  the  wall,  and  having  to  be  driven 


The  English  Pirates . 


8 

back  ;  while  savage  pirates  from  Denmark  and  North 
Germany  were  constantly  raiding  the  CGast.  When  the 
legions  left,  these  raids  naturally  increased  in  frequency: 
and  at  last  the  Government  in  despair  adopted  the  fatal 
policy  of  trying  to  hire  the  pirates  to  repel  the  Piets.  In 
449  the  rulers  of  Kent  hired  sea-rovers  from  Jutland. 
Then  the  inevitable  dispute  arose  over  pay  or  rations. 
The  pirates  turned  on  their  employers  :  and  the  men  of 
Durford  watched  from  the  forest  tall  mail-clad  savages 
burning  their  church  and  homes,  and  putting  their  kins¬ 
men  to  death.  In  a  few  years  the  Jutes  had  conquered 
the  whole  county ;  large  numbers  of  the  Christian 
inhabitants  had  been  slain  ;  those  who  remained  were 
either  outlaws  hiding  in  the  forests,  or  slaves  kept  by  the 
conquerors  to  till  the  ground.  Northward  in  Essex, 
westward  in  Sussex,  bands  of  Saxon  sea-robbers  did  the 
same  thing.  Further  north  the  Angles  were  winning  all 
the  East  coast.  More  Saxons  seized  the  district  which 
they  named  Wessex.  By  580  half  Britain  had  passed 
into  possession  of  the  pirates,  and  in  that  half  all  outward 
observance  of  the  Christian  Faith  had  been  stamped  out 
in  fire  and  blood. 

Let  us  watch  what  happened  at  Durford.  The  village 
English  had  been  burnt  to  the  ground  in  the  first  raid. 
Pagan-  When  the  time  came  to  divide  the  land,  this  dis- 
lsm-  trict  fell  to  the  Glaestings,  a  group  of  ten  families, 
who  were  all  kinsmen.  Their  first  act  was  to  remove  all 
trace  of  the  British  village,  lest  spells  and  enchantments 
should  haunt  the  stones  and  walls.  Ten  homesteads 
were  then  built  with  wood  from  the  neighbouring  forest. 
Huts  were  thrown  up  around  them  in  which  the  slaves 
could  sleep,  and  the  whole  was  surrounded  with  an 
earthen  rampart,  topped  with  a  quick-set  hedge.  .  Here- 
thryth  and  Waerlaf,  Ceolmund  and  Hwita  were  now  the 
chief  men  of  the  village,  fierce  heathen,  worshipping  those 
German  gods  whose  names  we  still  repeat  when  we  call 


Heathen  England. 


9 


the  days  of  our  week  Tiw’s  day  and  Woden’s  day,  Thor’s 
day  and  Frig’s  day.  And  of  these  Greater  Gods  Woden 
was  King.  Minor  deities  might  be  appeased  with  offer¬ 
ings  of  dogs  and  hawks,  but  Woden  would  accept  no 
lesser  sacrifice  than  a  man.  The  temple  of  Woden  with 
its  sacred  stump  stood  on  the  site  of  the  Christian  church, 
and  on  certain  days  of  the  year  great  feasts  were  held 
around  it  ;  but  the  average  man  was  far  more  influenced 
by  the  terrorism  of  the  lesser  gods,  the  ghosts  who  dwelt 
in  solitary  places  and  stalked  through  the  land  at  night, 
the  goblins  who  haunted  the  sacred  circles  of  the  old 
religion,  the  valkyrs  and  the  nicors,  the  imps  and  demons, 
the  werwolves,  the  nightmares  and  the  elves,  the  prolific 
host  of  Grendel  the  Evil  One,  against  which  it  was 
necessary  to  defend  oneself  by  carefully  woven  chains 
of  charms  and  spells  and  incantations..  Totemism  or 
animal  worship  was  also  practised,  and  in  Kent  the 
White  Horse  was  specially  sacred.  The  Christian  slaves, 
no  doubt,  clung  to  their  religion  in  secret,  but  they  were 
ignorant  and  crushed  with  suffering;  their  leaders  had 
fled  to  the  West  or  over  the  sea  to  Brittany ;  there  was 
no  public  worship  and  no  means  of  instruction.  What 
wonder,  if  their  faith  grew  feeble  as  the  years  passed  by  ! 
For  a  Centura’  and  a  half  Durford  was  once  more  a  heathen 
village. 


Augustine  preaching  before  Ethelbert. 


CHAPTER  II. 


HOW  THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND  CAME  INTO  BEING. 

YEARS  passed  on,  and  we  see  the  fourth  generation  of 
Bertha  the  Glaestings.  Durford  had  become  a  prosper- 
Queen  ous  village.  The  great-grandchildren  of  the 
ot  Kent.  pirates  had  settled  down  as  farmers,  and  one  of 
their  number — let  us  call  him  Wulfric — was  now  thegn 
or  squire.  It  was  his  duty  to  call  out  the  warriors  and 
to  administer  justice,  and  three  times  a  year  he  rode  to 
the  King’s  Court  in  Canterbury.  Here  once  more  it  was 
possible  to  see,  if  he  desired  to  do  so,  a  Christian  service 
celebrated  in  a  Christian  church.  For  years  the  old 
British  Church  of  St.  Martin  had  been  standing  ruined 
and  roofless,  but  now  Ethelbert,  King  of  Kent,  had 
married  a  Christian  lady,  and  Queen  Bertha,  daughter  of 
the  King  of  Paris,  had  brought  to  her  new  home  a  bishop 
named  Luidhard,  and  the  King  had  restored  the  old 
church  and  given  it  her  to  worship  in.  Soon  some  of 
the  men  of  Kent  began  to  wish  to  learn  more  of  the 
Queen’s  religion,  and  letters  were  written  to  the  bishops 
of  Gaul  asking  them  to  send  teachers.  But  the  worldly 
and  corrupt  Frankish  Church  had  neither  will  nor  power 
to  undertake  amission.  So  the  Temple  of  Woden  still 
stood  in  the  centre  of  Durford  village,  with  its  holy  ring, 
on  which  oaths  were  sworn,  and  its  bloodstone,  where 
the  victims  were  sacrificed,  and  its  wrinkled  hag,  who 
practised  witchcraft,  and  raised  the  spirits  of  the  dead. 


12 


Mission  of  Augustine. 


The 

Coming 
of  Au¬ 
gustine. 

crossed 


But  one  day  (597)  strangers  from  Rome  landed  in  the 
Isle  of  Thanet,  declaring  that  they  had  a  message 
for  the  King,  which,  if  he  would  receive  it,  would 
enable  him  to  gain  an  everlasting  kingdom.  And 
Ethelbert  called  his  thegns  around  him,  and 
to  the  Island  to  meet  them.  As  Wulfric  stood 
behind  his  King  under  the  oak  at  Ebbe’s  Fleet,  he  saw  forty 
Italian  monks  in  their  russet  robes  slowly  marching  two  by 
two  behind  a  silver  cross.  He  heard  the  strange  rise  and 
fall  of  the  Gregorian  chant.  He  saw  a  Face,  painted  on 
wood,  borne  like  a  banner  in  the  midst,  that  grave  By¬ 
zantine  Face  of  Christ  which  we  see  in  ancient  mosaics. 
He  saw  the  tall  figure  of  Augustine  towering  above  his 
fellows,  and  he  heard  him  preach  in  the  Latin  tongue, 
which  the  Frankish  interpreters  did  their  best  to  trans¬ 
late,  as  he  told  “  how  the  tender-hearted  Jesus  redeemed 
the  world  by  His  throes,  and  opened  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  to  all  believers  ”.  And  Wulfric  listened  with 
eager  interest  to  his  King’s  reply:  “Beautiful  indeed 
are  the  promises  ye  bring,  but  they  are  new  and  un¬ 
proven.  I  cannot  forsake  the  faith  of  my  fathers  which 
I  have  held  so  long.  But  since  ye  have  come  from  a  far 
country  to  make  known  things  which  ye  deem  to  be  true, 
we  welcome  you  with  friendly  hospitality ;  we  will  pro¬ 
vide  for  your  needs  ;  nor  do  we  forbid  you  to  preach  your 
religion  and  win  whom  ye  can.” 

It  is  only  later  that  Wulfric  and  his  friends  would 
have  heard  the  story  of  why  these  monks  left 
their  monastery  on  the  Coelian  Hill,  of  the  Eng¬ 
lish  slave-boys — not  Angles  but  angels — whom 
Gregory,  their  bishop,  had  seen  in  the  Forum  at 
Rome,  and  of  the  great  desire  that  had  seized  his  heart  to 
win  their  kin  for  Christ.  But  there  would  be  much  to  talk 
of  when  they  returned  to  Durford,  and  more  when  they 
learned  how  the  King  had  given  the  monks  a  house  in 
Canterbury,  how  they  were  preaching  daily  in  the  Church 


Baptism 

of 

Ethel¬ 

bert. 


Conversion  of  Kent. 


13 


The 
Conver¬ 
sion  of 
Kent. 


of  St.  Martin,  and  how  many  of  the  English  were  for¬ 
saking  the  gods  and  coming  to  them  for  baptism.  Then 
the  astounding  tidings  came  that  Ethelbert  himself,  whom 
all  men  believed  to  be  of  the  house  and  lineage  of  Woden, 
had  declared  that  he  too  would  serve  the  White  Christ, 
and  at  the  font  had  been  admitted  into  the  circle  of  his  fol¬ 
lowers  ;  and  that  Augustine,  the  tall  monk,  had  set  sail  for 
Gaul  to  be  consecrated  as  Archbishop  of  the  English  race. 

In  Durford,  Wulfric  summoned  the  Gemot  or  parish 
council,  and  all  the  freemen  met  to  decide  on  their 
course  of  action.  The  King  had  declared  that  he 
would  compel  no  man  to  become  a  Christian.  The 
Keeper  of  the  Temple  no  doubt  worked  hard  with 
her  sorceries  and  spells  ;  and  Kentish  men  have  never  been 
wont  to  make  up  their  minds  hastily.  But,  by  the  time 
Augustine  returned,  they  had  come  to  their  decision.  The 
old  feeling  of  tribal  loyalty  had  prevailed.  It  was  im¬ 
possible  for  King  and  People  to  serve  different  gods. 
Where  the  King  led  the  way,  his  People  must  always  follow. 
In  scores  of  villages  the  same  logic  led  to  the  same  deter¬ 
mination,  and  on  Christmas  Day  more  than  ten  thousand 
persons  were  publicly  baptized  by  Augustine  in  the  River 
Swale. 

What  difference  did  this  make  to  Durford?  Less  than 
might  be  imagined.  Gregory  had  given  the  mis¬ 
sionaries  instructions  to  make  as  few  changes  as 
possible  in  the  customs  of  the  people.  Even  the 
heathen  festivals  were  to  be  retained  and  Chris¬ 
tianized.  Thus  the  Teutonic  High  Festival  at  the 
beginning  of  winter  was  christened  Martinmas,  and  the 
geese  were  still  slain  and  eaten,  but  now  in  honour  of  St. 
Martin.  The  mid-winter  Yule  revelries,  with  the  burn¬ 
ing  of  the  Yule  log  and  the  killing  of  the  Yule  boar,  and 
the  hanging  up  of  the  mistletoe  bough  in  memory  of 
Baldur  the  Beautiful,  were  boldly  claimed  as  rejoicings 
over  the  birth  of  Christ.  The  spring  feast  of  the  Goddess 


The 

Hallow¬ 
ing  of 
Heath¬ 
enism. 


r4 


The  Hallowing  of  Heathenism. 


Eostre  with  her  Easter  eggs  became  the  Festival  of  the 
Resurrection.  Rogation  Days  were  merely  the  continu¬ 
ance  of  the  mid-May  heathen  processions,  and  the  leaping 
through  bonfires  on  Midsummer  Eve  was  retained  to  the 
glory  of  St.  John  the  Baptist.  Even  the  most  sacred 
symbol  of  all,  the  mighty  hammer  of  Thor,  needed  but 
little  alteration,  and  it  became  a  cross. 


Photo:  Frith  dr’  Co.} 

Old  Preaching  Cross. 


The  wooden  temple  of  Woden  was,  however,  pul  ed 
Church  down,  and  with  much  sprinkling  of  holy  water 
Build-  the  temple  enclosure  was  consecrated  to  the 
ing-  service  of  Christ.  On  the  south  side  a  large 

stone  cross  was  erected,  and  every  Sunday  one  of  the 
Canterbury  monks  rode  over  and  preached  to  the  people 


Church  Building. 


15 


from  its  steps.  Beneath  its  shadow  he  used  to  place  his 
portable  altar,  a  small  piece  of  wood  covered  with  silver, 
and  there  celebrated  Mass  in  the  open  air.  Later  he  felt 
that  a  permanent  altar  would  be  more  seemly  and  con¬ 
venient,  and  he  built  a  small  chapel  or  chancel  to  protect 
it  from  the  rain,  leaving  one  side  perfectly  open  that  all 
might  see  and  hear.  Then  it  began  to  dawn  on  the 
people  that  the  climate  of  Kent  was  not  at  all  times 
suited  for  outdoor  worship,  and  for  their  own  comfort  and 
protection  they  built  a  nave  in  front  of  the  priest’s  chapel, 
and  from  that  day  to  this  the  parishioners  have  had  to 
keep  the  nave  in  repair,  and  the  Rector  has  had  to  repair 
his  own  chancel.  In  this  way  Durford  obtained  its  third 
church,  a  small  oblong  building  with  no  architectural 
beauty,  with  rubble  walls  and  thatched  roof,  and  no 
windows  on  the  north  side  for  fear  the  devil  should  peep 
in,  its  only  glory  an  awe-inspiring  picture  of  the  Doom 
with  which  a  Canterbury  artist  had  covered  the  western 
wall. 

All  Kent  was  now  nominally  Christian,  but  Augustine’s 
work  was  not  yet  accomplished.  Two  tasks  re¬ 
mained  :  to  get  in  touch  with  the  British  Church 
which  still  survived  in  the  West ;  and  to  get  in 
touch  with  the  other  heathen  kingdoms.  By 
the  help  of  Ethelbert  he  arranged  a  meeting 
with  the  British  bishops.  For  a  century  and  a  half  the 
British  Church  had  been  cut  off  from  the  Continent  by 
the  solid  wedge  of  Anglo-Saxon  heathenism,  with  the 
result  that  its  customs  varied  from  those  of  other 
Churches.  For  example,  the  Roman  Church  had  re¬ 
vised  its  way  of  calculating  the  date  of  Easter,  but  the 
British  Church  still  used  the  old  tables.  British  priests 
shaved  the  front  of  their  heads,  while  Romans  shaved 
the  crown.  In  Baptism  also  there  was  some  point  of 
difference  ;  the  Romans  plunged  the  child  three  times  be¬ 
neath  the  water,  and  possibly  the  British  use  was  only  to 


Augus¬ 
tine 
and  the 
British 
Bishops. 


1 6  Augustine  and  the  British  Bishops. 

immerse  it  once.  These  were  small  matters,  but  they 
needed  adjustment,  if  the  Christian  Church  was  to  show 
a  united  front  to  Paganism.  Seven  British  bishops  came 
to  meet  Augustine,  and  with  them  monks  and  scholars 
from  the  Abbey  of  Bangor  by  the  Dee,  but  first  they 
consulted  a  wise  and  holy  hermit.  His  answer  was  : 
“Our  Lord  saith,  Take  My  yoke,  for  I  am  meek  and 
lowly.  If  this  Augustine  is  meek  and  lowly,  know  that 
he  bears  Christ’s  yoke.  But,  if  he  is  harsh  and  proud, 
regard  not  his  teaching.”  “How  can  we  tell  this?"’ 
they  asked.  “Contrive,”  the  hermit  answered,  “chat 
he  shall  come  first  to  the  place  of  meeting.  If  he  rises 
to  receive  you,  know  that  he  is  a  servant  of  Christ. 
But  if  he  despise  you,  and  will  not  rise,  let  him  be 
despised  by  you.”  This  was  no  mere  matter  of  courtesy, 
but  a  vital  question :  Would  Augustine  receive  them  as 
equals  or  as  inferiors?  But  the  Archbishop  was  armed 
with  a  letter  from  the  Pope  in  which  it  was  written : 
“  The  bishops  of  Britain  we  entrust  to  you.  Teach  the 
ignorant.  Strengthen  the  weak.  Correct  those  that  are 
perverse,”  and,  when  the  visitors  arrived,  he  retained  his 
seat,  like  a  Prince  receiving  a  humble  deputation  of  his 
subjects,  and  the  bishops  replied,  that  they  declined  to 
give  up  their  old  customs  and  refused  to  recognize  him 
as  their  Archbishop.  All  hope  of  union  with  the  ancient 
Church  of  the  land  was  at  an  end. 

There  remained  the  six  kingdoms  of  the  English  which 
The  were  still  heathen — Northumbria,  Mercia,  East 
other  Anglia,  Essex,  Sussex,  Wessex — and  to  these 
King-  the  missionaries  now  turned  their  attention. 

Essex  was  one  of  the  states  which  owned  Ethel- 
bert  as  overlord,  and  by  his  influence'  the  King  was 
baptized  (604),  and  Mellitus,  one  of  Augustine’s  monks, 
consecrated  as  Bishop  of  London.  A  few  years  later 
Raedwald  of  East  Anglia,  another  vassal  king,  consented 
to  be  christened.  Later  still  (626)  Edwin  of  Northumbria, 


The  Other  Kingdoms. 


1 7 


who  had  married  Ethelbert’s  daughter,  also  became  a 
Christian  ;  the  Northum¬ 
brian  Witan  in  solemn 
assembly  accepted  Chris¬ 
tianity;  the  heathen  temples 
were  destroyed  ;  and  Paul- 
inus,  another  of  the  Italian 
monks,  became  Bishop  ot 
the  Northumbrians.  But 
all  these  promising  begin¬ 
nings  were  doomed  to  end 
in  failure.  Raedwald  soon 
relapsed  into  heathenism, 
though  he  retained  an  altar 
of  Christ  in  the  temple  of 
his  idol.  The  men  of  Essex 
drove  out  their  bishop,  as  soon  as  the  king  died  (616). 
Edwin  of  Northumbria  was  slain  in  battle  (633)  by  the 
heathen  Mercians,  and  Paulinus  fled  back  South,  and 
became  Bishop  of  Rochester.  The  sole  result  of  Augus¬ 
tine’s  mission  was  the  conversion  of  Kent. 

How  were  the  other  kingdoms  eventually  won  ?  In 
various  ways.  Wessex  was  converted  by  Birinus,a  free¬ 
lance  missionary  from  North  Italy  (634).  Felix,  a 
bishop  from  Burgundy,  won  (636)  East  Anglia  for  the 
Faith.  The  three  largest  kingdoms  were  evangelized  by 
Irish  monks.  The  Church  of  Ireland  was  a  sister  of  the 
British  Church.  It  had  grown  up  entirely  apart  from 
the  influence  of  Rome,  and  it  stood  at  this  time  without 
a  rival  in  its  love  of  learning,  its  passion  for  holiness  and 
its  resistless  energy.  It  had  made  its  own  country  an 
island  of  saints,  and  now  was  flinging  itself  into  battle 
with  heathenism  abroad.  Columban  had  carried  the 
Gospel  to  Burgundy,-  St.  Gall  to  Switzerland,  and 
Columba  had  built  (563)  a  monastery  in  the  Island  of 
Iona  from  which  he  could  work  among  the  Piets  of 

2 


i8 


Conference  of  Whitby. 


Scotland.  From  this  monastery  (635)  came  Aidan  and 
a  party  of  monks  to  the  Island  of  Lindisfarne  off  the 
coast  of  Northumbria  :  and  from  Lindisfarne  they  began 
those  mission  journeys,  which  won  back  the  northern 
kingdom  for  Christ ;  they  pressed  on  and  evangelized 
the  whole  of  heathen  Mercia  ;  they  sent  out  Cedd,  who 
reconverted  the  apostate  kingdom  of  Essex.  By  660  all 
England  was  nominally  Christian,  except  the  little  king¬ 
dom  of  Sussex,  shut  in  between  the  forest  and  the  sea. 

But  there  was  no  such  thing  yet  as  a  Church  of 
The  England.  There  were  seven  Churches  in  the 
Whitby  country.  The  Church  of  Kent  and  the  Church 
C°n-  of  Northumbria  ;  the  Church  of  Mercia  and  the 
ference.  (gjlurc}1  Qf  ^e  £ast  Angles  ;  the  Church  of  the 

East  Saxons  and  the  Church  of  the  West  Saxons  ;  and 
the  British  Church.  And  these  Churches  were  divided 
one  from  the  other  by  those  very  points  of  difference 
which  Augustine  had  discussed  with  the  British  bishops  ; 
for  the  Churches  taught  by  Irish  monks  agreed  with  the 
Britons,  while  those  taught  by  missionaries  from  the  Con¬ 
tinent  agreed  with  Augustine  ;  and  it  sometimes  happened 
that  Canterbury  kept  Easter  a  whole  month  later  than 
London.  In  664  the  King  of  Northumbria  brought  the 
matter  to  a  head,  when  he  found  that  he  would  be  cele¬ 
brating  Easter  on  the  day  on  which  his  Kentish-trained 
Queen  would  be  keeping  Palm  Sunday,  and  he  called 
a  Conference  at  Whitby  to  discuss  the  question.  Most 
of  those  present  were  attached  to  the  old  system,  but 
there  was  an  eager  minority  on  the  other  side,  led  by 
Wilfrid,  Abbot  of  Ripon,  a  young  Northumbrian,  who 
had  visited  Rome,  and  returned  an  enthusiast  for  all 
things  Roman.  Many  learned  arguments  were  brought 
forward,  astronomical,  theological,  historical,  but,  as  is 
so  often  the  case  with  a  primitive  people,  an  utterly  in¬ 
conclusive  point  at  last  carried  the  day.  Colman,  the 
successor  of  Aidan  at  Lindisfarne,  claimed  the  authority 


Theodore  of  Tarsus. 


19 


of  St.  John  for  the  old  system.  Wilfrid  promptly  claimed 
for  the  new  the  authority  of  St.  Peter,  “  to  whom  our  Lord 
said,  I  give  thee  the  keys  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven 
The  King  at  once  asked  Colman  the  question,  “Did  our 
Lord  speak  thus  to  St.  Peter  ?  ”  and,  when  he  answered 
“Yes,”  the  King  closed  the  discussion.  “I  dare  not,” 
he  said,  “  decide  against  the  door-keeper  of  Heaven,  lest 
haply,  when  I  come  to  the  gates,  He  will  not  let  me 
through.”  Henceforth  Northumbria  definitely  adopted 
the  continental  custom,  not  only  with  regard  to  Easter, 
but  also  with  regard  to  the  other  matters  of  dispute. 
Essex  and  Mercia  soon  followed  its  example.  The  six 
English  kingdoms  had  now  one  uniform  use,  though  the 
British  Church  stood  aloof  for  more  than  a  hundred 
years.1 

A  strong  leader  was  now  needed  to  weid  the  six 
Theo-  Churches  into  one,  and  much  depended  on  the 
dore  of  appointment  to  the  vacant  See  of  Canterbury. 
Tarsus,  q^g  English  nominee  died  at  Rome  before  his 
consecration,  and  the  Pope  selected  in  his  place  Theodore 
of  Tarsus,  an  elderly  layman  of  sixty-six,  long  past  the 
age  when  it  is  easy  to  adapt  oneself  to  new  conditions, 
an  Asiatic,  unable  to  speak  a  single  word  of  English.  A 
more  amazing  choice  can  hardly  be  imagined,  yet  he 
proved  himself  exactly  the  man  for  the  work.  Instead  of 
confining  himself  to  Kent,  as  all  his  predecessors  had  done, 
he  visited  all  the  six  kingdoms,  and  everywhere  received 
a  welcome  as  Archbishop  of  the  English.  He  filled  up 
vacant  sees,  divided  dioceses,  where  they  seemed  too  large, 
suppressed  irregularities,  and  on  24  September,  673, 
presided  at  Hertford  over  the  first  national  Synod  of  the 
English  Church.  Here  it  was  agreed  that  no  bishop 
should  trespass  into  the  diocese  of  another,  that  monks 
should  not  wander  at  will  from  monastery  to  monastery, 

1  The  North  Welsh  yielded  in  768  ;  the  South  Welsh  in  777. 


20 


The  Church  of  All  England. 


that  no  priest  should  quit  his  diocese  without  letters 
dismissory,  that  the  marriage  and  divorce  laws  of  every 
diocese  should  be  the  same,  and  that  a  convocation  of 
the  whole  Church  should  be  held  once  a  year  at  Cloves- 
hoch,  a  place  which  we  cannot  now  identify  with  cer¬ 
tainty.  The  meeting  of  those  five  bishops  and  their 
clergy  in  that  little  East  Saxon  town  marks  an  epoch 
in  the  history  of  our  Church  and  nation.  For  the  first 
time  Angles  and  Saxons  met  for  common  consultation, 
but  they  met  not  as  fellow-countrymen  but  as  fellow- 
churchmen.  Ignorant  people  sometimes  assert  that  the 
Church  was  established  by  Parliament.  But  the  fact  is 
that  long  before  there  was  any  Parliament  or  any  English 
nation,  thanks  to  Theodore  of  Tarsus,  there  was  one 
united  Church  of  England,  obeying  one  set  of  canons, 
acknowledging  the  authority  of  one  archbishop,  using  the 
same  prayers  and  ceremonies  from  the  Firth  of  Forth  to 
the  English  Channel.  There  were  still  seven  Kingdoms, 
but  only  one  Church.  The  Church  of  England  is  150 
years  older  than  the  State. 


CHAPTER  III. 


HOW  MEN  TRIED  TO  FLY  FROM  THE  WORLD,  AND  HOW 
THE  WORLD  FOLLOWED  THEM. 

ENGLAND  had  been  converted  by  monks.  The  English 
Church  had  been  organized  by  monks.  So 

tv  r  j  ^  * 

Monster  monasteries  played  an  important  part  in  all  its 
early  history.  Our  picture  will  not  be  complete, 
unless  we  place  a  Minster  (i.e.  monastery)  in  Durford,  not 
in  the  village  itself,  but  in  some  quiet  clearing  in  the 
woods,  where  Wulfric  gave  half  a  hide  of  land  to  his 
daughter  Deorwyn.  This  was  no  great  abbey  to  com¬ 
pare  with  those  which  the  Kentish  royal  family  had  lately 
built  and  endowed — Christ  Church  and  St.  Peter  and  St. 
Paul  at  Canterbury,  Lyminge  Abbey,  Dover  Abbey, 
Folkestone  Abbey,  Reculver  Abbey,  the  minster  in 
Sheppey  and  the  minster  in  Thanet — but  it  was  typical 
of  the  small  foundations  built  by  large  land-owners  as  a 
refuge  for  a  sister  or  a  daughter.  A  stone  church,  lofty 
but  not  beautiful,  for  the  English  had  at  this  time  no 
skill  in  architecture.  On  the  north  side  the  men’s 
quarters — a  garden  with  a  cloister  round  it,  and  round 
the  cloister  the  cells,  the  chapter-house,  the  workshops, 
the  refectory,  and  the  kitchen.  On  the  south  side  similar 
buildings  for  the  mynchens  or  nuns  ;  for  a  curious  feature 
of  early  English  monasticism  was  this,  that  men  and  women 
lived  side  by  side  under  the  rule  of  an  Abbess.  Outside, 
the  fields  which  their  labour  had  already  begun  to  make 
fertile.  Around  all,  a  broad  and  silent  belt  of  forest. 

Monasticism  was  no  new  thing.  Three  hundred  and 
fifty  years  before,  Christians  in  Egypt  had  fled  to  the 


22 


The  Rule  of  St.  Benedict. 


The 
Rule 
of  St. 
Bene¬ 
dict. 


desert,  and  there  drawn  together  in  small  communities. 
From  Egypt  the  practice  spread  to  the  West. 
The  British  Church  had  its  monasteries,  and  the 
Irish  Church  consisted  of  little  else.  But,  about 
half  a  century  before  the  landing  of  Augustine, 
Benedict  of  Nursia  had  drawn  up  his  famous  Rule, 
which  transformed  all  the  monasteries  that  were  in  touch 
with  Rome.  Its  chief  aim  was  to  check  the  craze  for 
making  “  records’’  in  austerities,  which  had  been  the  main 
feature  of  the  monasteries  before  him.  In  place  of  a  wild 
individualism,  in  which  every  monk  tried  to  outdo  his 
brother,  he  introduced  absolute  obedience,  even  in  self¬ 
mortification.  “In  a  monastery  the  Abbot  is  considered 
to  take  the  place  of  Christ.”  “  In  all  that  he  commands 
the  Abbot  must  be  moderate,  remembering  the  discretion 
of  Jacob,  when  he  said,  ‘  If  I  cause  my  flocks  to  be  over¬ 
driven,  they  will  all  perish’.”  For  the  old  asceticism  he 
substituted  the  discipline  of  continuous  work.  For  the 
old  solitude  he  substituted  a  life  in  which  men  lived, 
worked,  and  worshipped  always  with  their  fellows,  hold¬ 
ing  all  their  property  in  common.  “  No  one  shall  presume 
to  keep  as  his  own  anything  whatever  ;  neither  book,  nor 
tablets,  nor  pen  ;  nothing  at  all.  All  things  are  to  be 
common  to  all.”  “The  beds  shall  be  frequently  searched 
by  the  Abbot  to  guard  against  the  vice  of  hoarding.” 
Augustine’s  monastery  on  the  Coelian  Hill  was  probably 
Benedictine ;  certainly  Wilfrid  had  learned  the  Rule 
during  his  travels  on  the  Continent,  and  when  the  Irish 
customs  were  suppressed,  the  Rule  of  St.  Benedict  be¬ 
came  the  law  in  all  English  monasteries. 

Let  us  watch  a  summer  day  in  Durford  Minster.  At 
Monas-  2  a.m.  the  monks  are  sleeping  on  their  beds  of 
tic  Life,  straw,  the  Prior  in  the  midst.  Every  man  is 
fully  dressed,1  with  his  cowl  drawn  over  his  head.  The 


1  Anglo-Saxon  monks  seldom  removed  their  clothes.  St.  Cuthbert  did 
not  take  off  his  shoes  from  one  Maunday  Thursday  to  another,  when  the 
solemn  foot-washing  took  place. 


A  Benedictine  Monastery.  23 

Sacrist  enters  and  awakens  them.  With  bowed  heads 
they  glide  through  the  cloisters  to  the  church  for  Uhtsong. 
Here  they  remain  for  two  hours  chanting  Psalms  and 
Responses.  Then  comes  a  short  break  for  relaxation, 
and  at  dawn  they  return  to  the  church  for  Aftersong. 
Then  they  wash  and  have  breakfast,  and  pass  to  the 
Chapter  Meeting,  where  all  the  business  of  the  house  is 


Benedictine  Monks  in  Choir. 

From  a  MSS.  Psalter  in  British  Museum.  MS.  Dom.  A.  XVII. 

done,  and  judgement  passed  on  transgressors.  Prime- 
song  at  six  is  followed  by  work  in  the  fields  or  forge  or 
mill.  Undersong  at  nine  is  followed  by  study  in  the 
cloister.  Middaysong  at  noon  is  followed  by  dinner, 
rest,  and  recreation.  Nonesong  at  two  is  followed  by 
another  spell  of  field  labour.  Evensong  at  six  is  followed 
by  supper  and  the  reading  aloud  of  the  lives  of  saints 
in  the  Chapter-house.  Then  about  half-past  seven  comes 
Nightsong,  followed  by  silence  and  bed.  The  mynchens 


24 


Some  English  Monks. 


next  door  have  been  spending  their  time  in  much  the 
same  manner,  but  their  services  have  been  later  than  the 
monks,  so  that  they  have  never  met  even  in  the  church, 
and  their  work  has  taken  the  form  of  spinning  and  weav¬ 
ing  and  embroidery. 

These  minsters  trained  a  certain  number  of  very  noble 
Some  Christians.  There  were  brilliant  scholars  like 
English  Aldhelm  of  Malmesbury  (d.  709),  whose  fame 
Monks.  <jrew  to  his  feet  disciples  from  many  distant 
lands,  and  Biscop  (d.  690),  the  great  collector  of  manu¬ 
scripts,  to  whom  men  gave  the  name  of  Benedict,  the 
blessed,  and,  greatest  marvel  of  them  all,  the  Venerable 
Bede.  At  a  moment  when  learning  had  reached  its  low¬ 
est  ebb  in  Western  Europe,  it  is  startling  to  find  in  a 
remote  corner  of  barbarous  Northumbria  this  monk  of 
Jarrow  (d.  735)  writing  his  Church  Histories  and  Com¬ 
mentaries  on  the  Bible,  noting  the  readings  of  various 
manuscripts,  pointing  out  which  are  faulty,  comparing 
the  Vulgate  and  the  older  Latin  version  with  the  Greek, 
quoting  copiously  from  Ambrose  and  Basil,  Chrysostom 
and  Jerome,  Cyprian,  Cyril  and  Augustine,  drawing  illus¬ 
trations  from  Virgil  and  Ovid,  Pliny  and  Plautus,  Horace 
and  Sallust  and  Cicero,  revealing  an  amazing  knowledge 
of  the  bypaths  of  theological  controversy  and  of  the  doc¬ 
trines  of  the  obscurest  heretics.  Side  by  side  with  the 
scholars  were  simple-minded  saints,  men  like  Cuthbert 
(d.  687),  who  trudged  through  the  dreary  swamps  of  the 
Border  district  to  teach  the  lonely  country  folk  around 
their  turf  fires,  and  Caedmon,  the  neat-herd  (c.  670),  who 
became  the  father  of  English  poetry.  Here  too  were 
bred  a  race  of  heroic  missionaries,  the  men  and  women 
who  won  Germany  for  the  Christian  faith :  Willibrord 
of  Ripon,  who  with  twelve  companions  set  out  (690)  to 
convert  Frisia ;  Swidbert,  who  carried  the  Gospel  to 
Prussia  (693);  Winfred  (martyred  753),  who  evangelized 
Hesse  and  Thuringand  won  for  himself  the  title  of 
Boniface,  the  good-doer ;  Walburga  (d.  779)  and  Lioba 


Monastic  Decay. 


25 


and  the  thirty  nuns,  who  left  Wimborne  for  the  dark 
pine  forests  in  the  valley  of  the  Tauber  ;  and  with  these 
may  be  reckoned  Alcuin  (d.  800),  the  friend  and  adviser 
of  Charlemagne.  Throughout  the  whole  of  the  eighth 
century  the  English  minsters  poured  a  steady  stream  of 
missionaries  into  Germany. 

The  ideal  of  the  monks  was  undoubtedly  a  most  attrac¬ 
tive  one,  and  in  certain  cases  it  produced  very 
Decay °f  ^ne  resu^ts>  but,  taken  as  a  whole,  it  did  not 
work.  The  whole  history  of  the  system  is  a 
dreary  succession  of  failures,  followed  by  drastic  reform, 
followed  again  by  failure.  And  Anglo-Saxon  monas¬ 
teries  in  particular  contained  many  points  of  weak¬ 
ness.  One  of  these  was  the  tendency  to  use  them  as  re¬ 
formatories.  Every  convicted  adulteress  was  compelled  to 
enter  a  convent.  A  thief  might  choose  whether  he  would 
become  a  monk  or  a  slave.  Thus  monasteries  became 
filled  with  bad  characters,  and  their  tone  deteriorated. 
Again,  they  were  treated  as  benefices  in  the  gift  of  the 
family  of  the  founder,  and  an  abbess,  who  was  a  saint,  might 
be  succeeded  by  a  lady  of  very  different  temperament.  In 
the  eighth  century  many  monasteries  became  anything  but 
homes  of  prayer.  First  we  hear  that  monks  and  mynchens 
are  dropping  monastic  dress.  Aldhelm,  who  died  in  709, 
described  some  nuns  he  had  seen,  with  red  shoes,  scarlet 
tunics,  and  violet  vests,  their  head-dress  decked  with  gay 
ribbons  hanging  down  to  their  ankles,  their  hair  crisped 
with  curling-tongs,  and  their  nails  pared  like  the  talons 
of  a  falcon.  And  the  dropping  of  the  dress  was  only  a 
sign  of  a  general  decay  of  discipline.  The  work  in  the 
fields,  on  which  Benedict  had  laid  so  much  emphasis,  was 
now  done  by  paid  servants  or  by  slaves.  No  longer  did 
monks  eat  their  food  in  silence,  while  one  of  the  brethren 
read  the  Bible  aloud  from  the  pulpit.  Meals  were  en¬ 
livened  by  the  antics  of  buffoons  and  jesters.  Visitors  of 
both  sexes  wandered  freely  through  the  minsters.  The 
Synod  of  Clovesho  (747)  complained  that  nuns  were 


2  6 


The  Coining  of  the  Danes. 


The 
Coming 
of  the 
Vikings. 


causing  grave  suspicion  to  fall  on  their  Order  by  receiv¬ 
ing  and  entertaining  lay  folk  in  their  cells.  Of  one 
Abbot  of  St.  Alban's  we  are  told  that  his  chief  occupa¬ 
tion  was  hunting,  and  that  he  “  gave  great  scandal  by 
the  numbers  of  women  he  invited  to  dine  in  the  Abbey, 
therein  exceeding  all  bounds  of  decency  ” ;  while  his 
successor,  another  famous  sportsman,  “wasted  the  goods 
of  his  church  with  players  and  scandalous  persons”. 
The  letters  of  Boniface  and  Alcuin  give  the  same  im¬ 
pression,  that  drunkenness  was  terribly  rife  in  the  minsters, 
and  other  vices  common. 

Upon  a  Church  which  tolerated  this  came  down  the 
scourge  of  God.  For  three  centuries  the  tide  of 
heathen  invasions  had  ceased ;  but  now  through 
Denmark  and  its  surrounding  islands  the  rumour 
began  to  spread  of  English  monasteries,  rich  and 
unprotected,  of  gold  and  silver,  captives  and  cattle,  to  be 
had  for  the  taking,  of  expeditions  far  more  profitable 
than  hunting  the  walrus  or  the  whale;  and  pirate  ships, 
manned  by  men  who  worshipped  Thor  and  Woden, 
came  rushing  south,  eager  for  plunder,  just  as  the  English 
themselves  had  done  in  days  gone  by.  In  795  Aidan's 
monastery  at  Lindisfarne  was  sacked.  Next  summer  the 
great  Abbey  at  Wearmouth  was  burned  to  the  ground. 
For  fifty  years  every  summer  the  Vikings  came,  sometimes 
to  Northumbria,  sometimes  to  the  Fen  Country,  some¬ 
times  to  Wessex,  or  to  Cornwall,  burning,  harrying, 
murdering,  tossing  children  on  to  their  spears,  carving 
blood  eagles  on  the  backs  of  priests ;  and  in  all  the 
Churches  a  new  petition  was  added  to  the  Litany,  “  From 
the  fury  of  the  Northmen,  good  Lord,  deliver  us  ”.  In 
850  the  Vikings  seized  Thanet  and  destroyed  the  minster. 
They  sailed  up  the  Stour,  and  stormed  Canterbury  with 
great  slaughter,  and — ominous  fact  for  the  future — when 
winter  came,  they  did  not  withdraw.  First  Thanet,  then 
Sheppey,  became  permanent  Danish  settlements.  Then 
in  865  all  East  Kent  was  ravaged.  Durford  would  share 


The  Coming  of  the  Danes 


27 


the  fate  of  the  other  villages.  Nothing  was  left  of  church 
or  minster  but  some  blackened  ruins.  Parish  priest  and 


monks  and  mynchens  all  alike  were  slain.  Ihor  and 
Woden  had  had  their  revenge. 


A  Viking  Raid 


28 


Monasticism  Overthrown . 


Alfred. 


By  this  time  the  Vikings’  aim  was  conquest,  not 
plunder.  In  867  Northumbria  became  a  Danish 
kingdom.  In  870  “the  Host  rode  into  East 
Anglia ;  the  King  they  slew,  and  the  whole  land  brought 
they  under,  and  broke  down  all  the  minsters  that  ever 
they  came  to  In  874  Mercia  was  conquered.  By 
878  the  only  point  of  resistance  left  was  the  little  Isle  of 
Athelney  in  the  Somerset  marshes,  where  Alfred,  King 
of  the  West  Saxons,  had  taken  refuge.  But  then  the 
tide  turned.  Alfred’s  great  victory  at  Ethandune  freed 
Wessex  and  Kent.  Guthrum  and  thirty  of  the  Danish 
chiefs  received  baptism  ;  and  the  Vikings  settled  down 
in  the  fifteen  counties  that  remained  in  their  hands,  and 
before  long  became  absorbed  in  the  Christian  population. 

But  by  this  time  English  monasticism  was  dead.  The 
The  wealth  of  the  monasteries  had  caused  them  to 
Secular  bear  the  full  brunt  of  the  storm.  The  Danes  had 
Canons.  m0ved  from  minster  to  minster,  plundering, 
murdering,  burning,  and  though  a  few  monks  survived — 
at  Crowland,  for  example,  which  had  been  one  of  the 
largest  abbeys,  five  old  men  continued  to  live  among  the 
ruins — no  fresh  recruits  could  anywhere  be  found.  When 
Alfred  tried  (888)  to  establish  a  monastery  at  Athelney, 
“he  found,”  wrote  Asser,  his  friend  and  chaplain,  “not 
one  noble  or  freeman,  who  would  of  his  own  accord  sub¬ 
mit  to  monastic  life.  The  desire  for  this  life  had  utterly 
died  away  among  all  the  nation.”  Practically  all  the 
minster  property  that  survived  the  storm  passed  into  the 
hands  of  secular  canons.  Just  as  monks  professed  to 
follow  the  Rule  of  St.  Benedict,  so  canons  professed  to 
follow  a  Rule  drawn  up  about  750  by  Chrodegang, 
Bishop  of  Metz.  Like  monks  they  were  required  to  live 
and  worship  together,  but  there  were  many  marked  points 
of  difference.  Canons  were  clergy,  whereas  most  monks 
were  laymen.  Canons  were  seculars,  that  is  to  say,  they 
lived  and  worked  in  the  world,  whereas  monks  were 
supposed  to  have  withdrawn  from  the  world  to  the 


The  Secular  Canons. 


29 


cloister.  Monks  were  celibate,  whereas  in  England, 
where  the  celibacy  of  the  parochial  clergy  had  not  yet 
been  enforced,  many  of  the  canons  were  married  men. 
Monks  held  their  property  in  common,  but  under  the  new 
system  the  monastic  property  was  divided  into  prebends 
or  portions,  one  of  which  was  given  to  each  canon.  But 
it  did  not  answer.  In  many  cases  all  pretence  of  common 
life  was  abandoned,  and  the  canons  lived  with  their  families 
on  the  prebendal  farms,  leaving  the  services  in  the  abbey 
church  to  poorly  paid  substitutes.  So  deeply  rooted  had 
the  abuse  become,  that  when  a  Winchester  reformer  de¬ 
prived  the  absentees  of  their  canonries,  and  appointed  in 
their  place  the  men  who  were  doing  the  duty,  the  new 
canons  promptly  engaged  substitutes  to  sing  the  services 
for  them,  and  disappeared  to  take  possession  of  their  new 
estates. 

The  sight  of  these  rich,  easy-going  gentlemen  appro- 
The  priating  to  their  private  use  the  property  of  the 

Bene-  Church,  led  men  to  forget  the  past  failure  of 

dictine  monasticism,  and  to  desire  its  revival.  In  04^ 
eviv  ‘  Dunstan  became  Abbot  of  the  ancient  Minster  of 
Glastonbury,  which  was  then  occupied  by  a  few  seculars. 
He  soon  restored  the  common  life,  and  rebuilt  the  church, 
but  did  not  yet  venture  to  enforce  the  Benedictine  Rule. 
Later  (954)  he  sent  Aethelwold  his  prior  and  some  of 
his  monks  to  Abingdon  to  revive  an  old  minster  there. 
But  these  were  the  only  two  monasteries  with  any  kind 
of  monastic  life,  and  even  in  them  the  Rule  of  St.  Bene¬ 
dict  was  not  observed.  Meanwhile  the  two  abbots  came 
in  touch  with  monasticism  abroad.  Dunstan,  exiled 
through  a  Court  intrigue,  took  refuge  in  an  Abbey  in 
Ghent  ;  Aethelwold  sent  one  of  his  monks  to  Fleury,  the 
abbey  which  contained  the  bones  of  St.  Benedict,  to 
study  the  methods  there;  and  both  were  filled  with  a 
deep  desire  to  revive  in  their  own  land  the  Benedictine 
system.  Their  chance  came  in  959,  when  Edgar  the 
Peacewinner,  great-grandson  of  Alfred,  became  sole  king. 


30 


The  Monastic  Revival. 


“I,  Edgar,”  he  writes  in  one  of  his  charters,  “having 
been  exalted  by  the  grace  of  God  to  a  height  never 
enjoyed  by  any  of  my  forefathers,  have  often  considered 
what  offering  I  should  make  to  the  King  of  Heaven,  and 
Heavenly  Love  suddenly  suggested  to  my  mind  that  I 
should  rebuild  all  the  holy  monasteries  throughout  my 
kingdom,  which  are  not  only  visibly  ruined  with  moulder¬ 
ing  shingles  and  worm-eaten  boards,  but  have  become 
internally  neglected  and  almost  destitute  of  the  worship 
of  God.  Wherefore,  ejecting  illiterate  clerks,  subject  to 
the  discipline  of  no  regular  order,  I  have  appointed 
pastors  of  a  holier  race.”  Dunstan  became  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  Aethelwold,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  and 
Oswald,  one  of  the  monks  of  Fleury,  Bishop  of  Wor¬ 
cester.  Ruined  abbeys  were  restored  with  astonishing 
rapidity.  In  five  years  the  King  himself  rebuilt  forty- 
seven.  A  more  difficult  task  was  to  eject  the  seculars 
from  monasteries  which  they  had  occupied,  but  though 
the  struggle  brought  the  kingdom  to  the  verge  of  civil 
war,  this  was  also  accomplished  in  many  cases.  At 
Winchester,  for  example,  Aethelwold  summoned  the 
canons  to  a  service  in  the  church,  where  they  found  a 
heap  of  cowls  on  the  floor  in  front  of  the  bishop's  throne. 
All  went  smoothly  till  the  verse  came,  “  Serve  the  Lord 
with  fear,”  when  the  bishop  burst  in  with  a  voice  of 
thunder,  “Mean  ye  what  ye  sing?  Will  ye  serve  the 
Lord  with  fear  ?  Then  take  up  those  cowls.  I  will 
have  no  hesitation.  But  on  that  dress  or  go.”  “Where¬ 
upon  three  obeyed  :  the  rest  were  thrust  out  from  their 
canonries.”  Meanwhile  a  party  of  monks  from  Abingdon 
were  peeping  in  at  the  door,  waiting  to  take  the  place  of 
those  who  should  be  expelled.  By  the  end  of  the  tenth 
century,  though  the  seculars  still  remained  in  possession 
of  some  of  the  abbeys,  the  south  and  east  of  England 
were  once  more  covered  with  monasteries. 

The  triumph  of  the  monks  w'as  accompanied  by  a  great 
outburst  of  superstition.  Everywhere  bones  of  saints 


Relic  Worship. 


31 


were  discovered,  and  worshipped  with  wild  enthusiasm. 
Relic-  “While  there  were  Canons  in  the  old  Minster,” 
Wor -  wrote  the  Winchester  chronicler,  “St.  Swithin 
shlP-  wrought  no  miracle,  but,  when  they  were  put  out, 

wonders  began  and  swarmed.”  “The  burial  ground,” 
wrote  another,  “  was  so  full  of  crippled  folk,  that  people 


Procession  bearing  Relics. 

could  hardly  get  into  the  Minster.  Both  walls  were  hung 
all  round,  from  one  end  to  the  other,  with  crutches  and 
stools  of  cripples  who  had  been  healed,  and  yet  they  could 
not  put  up  half  of  them.”  When  bones,  supposed  to  be 
those  of  St.  Aldhelm,  were  discovered  at  Malmesbury, 
soldiers  had  to  be  sent  to  keep  order  amongst  the  throngs 
of  pilgrims.  Monasteries  hunted  high  and  low  for  relics, 


32 


Relic  Worship. 


and  stooped  to  very  dubious  methods  to  obtain  them. 
The  Abbot  of  Ely  (974)  made  the  whole  village  of  Dere¬ 
ham  drunk,  and  then  stole  from  the  church  the  wonder¬ 
working  bones  of  St.  Werburga.  Durham  secured  its 
most  famous  relics  in  a  way  even  less  commendable. 
Alfred  of  Westowe,  “a  priest  whose  works  won  for  him 
the  closest  friendship  of  St.  Cuthbert,”  served  God  by 
burglary.  He  visited  all  the  churches  of  Northumbria, 
and  by  the  story  of  a  vision  persuaded  the  clergy  to  allow 
him  to  adore  their  relics,  and  in  almost  every  case  he 
succeeded  in  appropriating  a  bone.  But  the  prize  on 
which  he  had  set  his  heart  was  the  body  of  the  Venerable 
Bede,  and  at  last  (1020)  after  many  failures  he  was  success¬ 
ful,  and  the  contents  of  the  canvas  bag,  which  he  brought 
back  from  Jarrow,  made  Durham  one  of  the  greatest 
pilgrimage  centres  in  the  country. 

But  the  relics  which  drew  the  largest  crowds  were 
Th  those  of  St.  Alban.  In  795  King  Offa  of  Mercia 
Relics  had  dreamed  a  dream,  in  consequence  of  which 
of  St-  he  caused  an  ancient  barrow  to  be  opened,  and 
declared  that  the  skeleton,  that  was  found  inside, 
was  that  of  the  first  British  martyr.  Twelve  other  bones 
were  found  with  it,  and  it  was  decided  that  these  must 
be  relics  of  the  twelve  Apostles,  brought  to  England 
by  Germanus,  when  he  visited  Verulam.  These  remains 
were  regarded  with  the  deepest  reverence ;  but  one  day 
(874)  they  were  seized  by  Vikings,  and  carried  off  to 
Denmark.  Ergwin,  one  of  the  St.  Alban’s  monks, 
followed  them,  and  gained  admission  to  the  Danish 
monastery  as  a  novice ;  after  some  years  he  returned, 
asserting  that  he  had  succeeded  in  stealing  back  the 
relics.  The  Danish  monks,  however,  declared  that 
Ergwin  was  a  liar,  and  that  the  body  was  still  in  their 
possession.  In  1042  there  came  a  fresh  threat  of  a 
Danish  invasion,  and  the  Abbot  of  St.  Alban’s  sent  a 
message  to  the  Abbot  of  Ely,  whose  monastery  was 
a’ most  inaccessible  in  its  marshes,  asking  him  to  guard 
the  precious  relics  for  him.  When  the  danger  was  over, 


Relics  of  St.  Alban. 


33 


the  monks  of  Ely  sent  back  the  shrine,  but  they  placed 
in  it  a  skeleton  from  their  cemetery,  keeping  the  reputed 
relics  of  the  martyr  for  their  own  high  altar.  But  the 
Abbot  of  St.  Alban’s  replied,  that  he  had  not  been  so 
simple-minded  as  to  trust  the  Ely  monks  with  the  real 
relics  ;  those  had  remained  all  the  time  hidden  in  his 
own  Abbey,  and  Ely  had  stolen  secular  bones  of  no 
particu]ar  value.  This  story  illustrates  the  doubtful 


Shrine  of  St.  Alban. 


authenticity  of  almost  all  these  relics.  The  bones,  which 
Offa  dug  up,  were  probably  those  of  some  pagan  chief¬ 
tain  ;  and  even  of  those  bones  no  one  could  tell  whether 
the  real  ones  were  in  Denmark,  Ely,  or  St.  Albans  ;  yet 
every  year  they  drew  thousands  of  pilgrims  to  each  of 
the  rival  monasteries.1  The  belief  in  the  power  and 

1  The  offerings  of  the  pilgrims  proved  a  profitable  source  of  income  to 
the  monasteries.  We  have  no  figures  for  these  early  years,  but  in  the 
fourteenth  century  the  gifts  at  the  shrine  of  St.  Cuthbert  at  Durham 
brought  in,  in  modern  money,  an  average  of  £ 750  a  year ;  those  at  the 
shrine  of  St.  Mary  at  Walsingham  over  ^3000  a  year  ;  those  at  the  shrine 
of  St.  Thomas  at  Canterbury  about  £4000. 

3 


34 


The  Eleventh  Century . 


sanctity  of  relics  was  practically  universal.  Even  level¬ 
headed  men  like  Canute  and  Harold  paid  vast  sums  to 
obtain  the  bones  of  obscure  Burgundian  martyrs. 

Meanwhile  the  old  England  was  dying  in  a  welter  of 
fire  and  blood.  The  treacherous  massacre  of  the 

I  lie 

Eleventh  Danes  on  St.  Brice’s  Day  (1002);  the  arrival  of 
Cent-  Swegn  Forkbeard  to  avenge  his  murdered  sister  ; 

the  pelting  to  death  of  Alphege,  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  with  ox-bones ;  Swegn,  king  for  one  year; 
Ethelred,  king  for  another;  then  the  red  reign  and  poison¬ 
ing  of  Edmund  Ironside.  Durford  might  well  believe 


Anglo-Saxon.  Church  at  Bradford-on  Avon. 


that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand.  In  the  village 
itself,  when  the  Danes  were  absent,  the  routine  of  Church 
life  went  on  as  usual.  Sunday  would  be  spent  in  the 
orthodox  way.  “  It  is  proper  that  every  Christian  should 
come  on  Saturday  night  to  the  church,  bringing  a  light 
with  him,  and  hear  Vesper-Song,  and  after  midnight 
Uhtsong,  and  come  again  with  his  offering  in  the  morn¬ 
ing  to  the  Solemn  Mass.  After  that,  let  him  return  home 
and  regale  himself  with  his  neighbours,  taking  care  that 
he  commit  no  excess  in  eating  or  drinking.”  Sometimes 
a  criminal  would  crash  through  the  woods  to  claim 
sanctuary  at  the  altar.  Sometimes  the  village  would  be 
thrilled  by  an  ordeal.  Perhaps  it  was  Waerlaf  who  swore 


Mene  T ekel. 


35 


that  Waerstan  had  murdered  Wulflaf  the  swine-herd. 
Waerstan  on  oath  has  declared  that  he  is  perfectly  inno¬ 
cent.  So  Ailric  the  thegn  must  bring  him  to  Mass  three 
days  running,  and  on  the  third  day,  before  the  service 
begins,  the  priest  lays  a  bar  of  iron  across  a  glowing 
brazier.  At  the  last  collect  he  takes  it  off  with  a  pair 
of  tongs,  sprinkles  it  with  holy  water,  and  lays  it  on  a 
stone,  with  a  prayer  to  the  God  of  Justice  to  reveal  the 
truth.  Then  Waerstan  must  pick  it  up,  and  carry  it  three 
paces.  The  priest  will  then  bandage  his  hand,  and  seal 
it  with  the  Church  seal.  In  three  days’  time  the  bandage 
will  be  removed,  and  then  “  if  festering  blood  be  found, 
he  shall  be  judged  guilty  ;  but,  if  the  burn  be  healed, 
praise  shall  be  rendered  to  God.”  Meanwhile  national 
affairs  were  drifting  from  bad  to  worse.  For  a  time 
(1017-35)  England  was  a  province  of  Canute’s  great 
Northern  Empire.  Then  came  brief  and  bloody  reigns  of 
two  Danish  kings.  Then  the  English  Royal  family  was 
restored  (1042)  in  the  person  of  that  most  incompetent 
of  saints,  Edward  the  Confessor.  The  Church,  like  the 
nation,  showed  every  sign  of  decay  and  exhaustion. 
Bishoprics  fell  into  the  hands  of  weak  and  unworthy  men. 
Monks  once  more  grew  lazy  and  luxurious,  parochial 
clergy  only  too  often  drunken  and  disreputable.  In 
many  a  village  the  old  Paganism  began  to  lift  up  its 
head.  Thor  the  Thunderer  and  Woden  the  Truth- 
seeker  had  not  been  utterly  forgotten  ;  and,  in  spite  of 
strongly  worded  laws  for  the  suppression  of  deofolgilden 
or  devils’  guilds,  men  began  to  meet  secretly  for  “  heathen- 
ship  by  way  of  sacrifice  and  divinings  ”.  Still  larger 
numbers  lost  all  touch  with  any  form  of  religion.  A 
slow,  stupid,  swinish  sensuality  was  sapping  the  nation’s 
strength.  Church  and  State  alike  required  fresh  blood 
and  discipline,  and  they  found  both  (1066)  when  Harold 
fell  under  the  Dragon  Banner,  and  William  and  his  Nor¬ 
man  adventurers  became  masters  of  England. 

3  * 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW  THE  BISHOP  OF  ROME  GAINED  SUPREME  POWER  IN 

ENGLAND. 

DURFORD  quickly  felt  the  effect  of  the  Norman  Con¬ 
quest.  P'irst  came  mourning  for  sons  and  fathers 
Church  w^°  fallen  with  Harold.  Then  the  Con- 
and  the  queror  and  his  host  arrived,  marching  from 
System  i^over  to  Canterbury.  Then  one  day  came 
Roger  de  Quetivel  to  take  possession  of  the  lands 
of  Ailric  the  thegn,  and  with  Roger  came  the  Feudal 
System.  Every  man  in  England  now  had  a  lord  over 
him,  from  whom  he  received  his  land,  and  to  whom  he 
owed  service.  If  Wadel  the  cottager  was  Roger’s  man, 
Roger  in  his  turn  was  the  man  of  P'itzgilbert,  one  of  the 
great  barons,  and  Fitzgilbert  himself  was  the  man  of 
the  King.  But  the  question  arose,  How  did  Peter  the 
priest  fit  into  this  system  ?  Was  he  vassal  of  Roger  or  of 
the  King,  or  did  he  occupy  an  independent  position  ? 
England  was  now  flooded  with  foreign  ecclesiastics. 
One  by  one  all  the  bishoprics  passed  into  Norman  hands. 
Normans  became  abbots  of  most  of  the  large  monasteries. 
In  many  parishes  the  new  landholders  appointed  Nor¬ 
man  priests.  And  all  these  foreigners  regarded  the  Pope 
as  the  Church’s  commander-in-chief.  In  the  ninth  cen¬ 
tury  a  Book  of  Decretals  had  suddenly  made  its  appear¬ 
ance.  which  claimed  to  contain  letters  from  the  earliest 
bishops  of  Rome.  Its  aim  was  to  prove  that  in  primi¬ 
tive  times  the  Church  of  Rome  ruled  all  other  Churches, 

36 


Norman  Architecture . 


37 


and  that  this  authority  had  been  given  by  Christ  Him¬ 
self.  The  book  was  an  impudent  forgery,  but  the  age 
was  not  critical ;  in  France  and  Italy  these  Decretals 
were  accepted  as  genuine,  and  the  Norman  clergy  had 
learnt  to  consider  themselves  as  men  of  the  Pope,  bound 
to  look  to  him  for  orders  and  to  obey  without  question. 
This  made  a  conflict  between  Church  and  State  Inevit¬ 
able,  but,  while  William  and  Lanfranc,  his  archbishop, 
lived,  the  quarrel  was  avoided,  and  Durford’s  chief  in¬ 
terest  was  its  new  church. 

The  Normans  were  mighty  builders.  Partly  as  a 
Norman  thank-offering,  partly  no  doubt  to  enhance  the 
Church-  dignity  of  the  manor,  many  of  the  new  lords  re¬ 
build-  built  the  parish  churches.  Roger  soon  pulled 
ing#  down  the  little  Saxon  church,  and  built  one  in 
the  form  of  a  cross,  with  a  low  square  central  tower,  like 
a  castle  keep,  from  which  the  curfew  pealed  out  over  the 
village  every  evening.  Inside,  the  general  impression 
was  one  of  enormous  solidity.  The  round-topped  arches 
rested,  not  on  columns,  but  on  rounded  masses  of  masonry. 
The  narrow,  round-headed  windows  without  shafts  or 
mouldings  were  little  more  than  slits  in  the  massive  wall. 
Nowhere  was  any  sign  of  carving,  except  such  rough 
ornamentation  as  could  be  hewn  with  an  axe,  for  the  use 
of  the  chisel  was  as  yet  unknown  ;  but  walls  and  pillars 
alike  glowed  with  red  and  green  and  gold.  The  rush- 
strewn  floor  had  little  furniture — no  seats,  save  a  stone 
bench  for  the  aged  running  round  the  wall,  no  pulpit,  no 
lectern,  no  communion  rails  :  but  a  stone  screen  divided 
the  chancel  from  the  nave  ;  a  tub-shaped  font  stood  near 
the  door  without  base  or  pediment,  its  flat  lid  carefully 
locked  to  keep  the  witches  from  the  water ;  and  God’s 
Board  at  the  east  end,  a  large  slab  of  freestone 1  with  a 
sealed  cavity  containing  the  relics,  without  which  no  altar 


1  Stone  altars  were  a  Norman  innovation, 
times  they  had  been  made  of  wood. 


In  Celtic  and  Anglo-Saxon 


38 


A  ns  el m  A  rchbishop. 


could  be  consecrated.  Such  was  the  church  in  which 
Durford  worshipped  for  the  next  three  centuries. 

When  the  building  was  finished,  there  was  no  Arch- 
Anselm  bishop  to  consecrate  it,  for  Lanfranc  was  dead, 
and  and  William  Rufus  was  keeping  the  see  vacant, 
and  using  the  income  for  his  own  vices.  But 
one  day  1093  the  news  came  that  the  Red  King  had 


Norman  Chapel  in  the  Tower  of  London. 

thought  himself  dying,  and,  with  the  terrors  of  hell  before 
him,  had  appointed  the  holiest  man  in  Europe  as  Arch¬ 
bishop  of  Canterbury.  Anselm,  Abbot  of  Bee  in  Nor¬ 
mandy,  was  regarded  by  all  as  a  saint — it  was  said  that 
the  water  in  which  he  washed  had  power  to  heal  the  sick 
— but  by  training  and  sympathy  he  was  a  foreigner, 
knowing  nothing  of  the  laws  and  customs  of  the  English 


Church  and  State. 


39 


Church.  Rufus  was  a  foul-mouthed,  foul-minded  sinner, 
but  in  the  struggle  that  arose,  the  King  was  in  the  right, 
and  the  Saint  was  in  the  wrong  ;  for  Anselm  declared 
that  he  must  refer  all  doubtful  matters  to  the  Pope,  but 
Rufus  replied  that  this  was  contrary  to  the  customs  of 
the  realm.  The  end  was  that  the  Archbishop  had  to  go 
into  exile.  Durford  wept,  as  it  watched  him  pass  through 
the  village  on  foot ;  at  night  men  pointed  to  a  comet 
in  the  sky  as  a  sign  of  the  wrath  of  God  ;  but  by  fixing 
men’s  minds  upon  Rome  as  the  central  Court  of  Appeal, 
he  was  forging  heavy  fetters  for  the  church  he  ruled. 
For  the  Red  King  was  but  a  man,  destined  to  perish 
miserably  in  a  few  years’  time  ;  the  English  courts  would 
soon  recover  their  reputation  for  justice;  but  Rome  re¬ 
mained  for  centuries  the  corruptest  court  in  Christendom, 
the  court  where  the  most  successful  advocate  was  always 
“  the  little  round  pleader  who  never  spake,”  the  court 
where  the  verdict  ever  depended  on  the  number  of  coins 
in  the  purse. 

When  Henry  I  came  to  the  throne  (noo),  he  invited 
Anselm  Anselm  to  return ;  but  this  proved  only  the 
and  beginning  of  a  new  controversy;  for  Anselm  de- 
Henry  I.  cpneci  i0  homage  for  his  fief9  asserting  that  a 
bishop  could  not  be  a  layman’s  vassal.  The  King  replied 
that  no  foreigner  could  hold  office  in  England,  until  he 
had  sworn  to  be  loyal  to  the  throne.  Once  more  the 
Archbishop  had  to  go  into  exile  ;  but,  when  at  last  (i  107) 
a  compromise  was  arranged,  the  advantage  lay  with  the 
Pope,  for  it  was  agreed  that,  though  bishops  might  do 
homage  to  the  King  for  their  lands,  all  symbols  of  their 
spiritual  authority  should  be  received  from  Rome.  In 
other  words,  henceforth  every  English  bishop  would  have 
to  acknowledge  the  Pope  as  his  over-lord. 

Then  came  the  appalling  reign  of  Stephen  (1 1  3  5-54), 
when,  as  the  old  chronicler  records,  “they  filled  the 
land  full  of  castles  and  filled  the  castles  with  devils. 


40 


The  Cistercians. 


They  took  all  those  they  deemed  had  goods,  and  tortured 
them  with  tortures  unspeakable.  They  robbed  and 
burned  all  the  villages,  so  that  thou  mightest  fare  a  day’s 
journey,  nor  ever  find  a  man  dwelling  in  a  village,  nor 
land  tilled.  And  men  said  openly  that  Christ  slept  and 
His  saints.” 

But  in  the  midst  of  this  awful  anarchy  there  sprang 
The  up  a  strange  revival  of  monastic  life.  “  In  the 
Cister-  short  time  that  Stephen  bore  the  title  of  King, 
cians.  there  arose  in  England  many  more  dwellings  of 
the  servants  of  God  than  had  risen  in  the  whole  century 
past.”  In  1098  Stephen  Harding,  a  Dorsetshire  man, 
had  seceded  from  the  Benedictine  Abbey  of  Moleme  in 
Burgundy,  and  founded  a  new  community  in  the  midst 
of  the  marshes  of  Citeaux.  The  Cistercians,  as  the 


monks  of  this  Order  were  called,  were  the  Puritans  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  Their  whole  life  was  a  protest  against 
the  luxury  that  had  again  invaded  all  the  older  monas¬ 
teries.  Abbots  were  spending  fabulous  sums  in  beauti¬ 
fying  their  churches.  The  clergy  ministered  in  splendid 
vestments.  The  altars  were  covered  with  costly  orna¬ 
ments,  blazing  with  gold  and  jewels.  But  in  a  Cistercian 
church  neither  tower,  nor  bell,  nor  stained  glass  window 
was  permitted;  no  cope,  nor  tunicle,  nor  dalmatic  might 
be  worn  ;  on  the  altar  was  only  a  linen  cloth  without  any 
embroidery ;  above  it  one  iron  candlestick  and  a  crucifix 


A  Cistercian  Monastery . 


41 


of  painted  wood.  Elsewhere  monks  lived  comfortable 
lives,  keeping  huntsmen  to  provide  them  with  venison, 
and  falconers  to  procure  their  pheasants,  and  they  de¬ 
fended  this  on  the  ground  that  Mary  must  not  degenerate 
into  Martha.  But  the  Cistercians  allowed  themselves 
only  one  meal  a  day  ;  and  then  they  abstained  not  only 
from  meat,  but  even  from  fish  and  eggs ;  their  only  food 
was  coarse  bread  and  a  mess  of  vegetables.  In  1128  a 
little  band  of  these  monks  crossed  the  Channel,  and 
founded  Waverley  Abbey  in  Surrey,  and  in  the  next 
twenty  years  they  spread  with  extraordinary  rapidity 
through  many  parts  of  England. 

To  this  revival  let  us  attribute  the  rebuilding  of  Dur- 
^  Cig  ford  Abbey.  Nigel  de  Quetivel,  Roger’s  son, 
terdan  felt  that  he  was  growing  old,  and  feared  to  meet 
Monas-  his  Maker.  Then  he  remembered  that  he  was 
using  land  that  had  been  given  to  God,  that  a 
minster  had  stood  on  the  banks  of  the  Dur  before  the 
coming  of  the  Danes,  and  he  sent  to  Waverley  to  ask 
for  monks,  promising  to  build  all  they  required,  and  to 
endow  them  with  the  lands  that  had  belonged  to  the 
minster.  A  small  company  of  gaunt,  white-robed  men 
arrived,  very  different  from  the  sleek  Benedictine  monks 
of  Canterbury.  In  a  peaceful  spot  among  the  woods  the 
abbey  church  arose,  stern  and  fortress-like  without,  but, 
within,  inexpressibly  solemn,  with  its  pale  grey  nave  and 
vast  round  columns  and  absence  of  all  adornment.  Here 
the  brethren  met  for  worship  eight  times  a  day.  South 
of  the  church  was  a  square  green  lawn,  and  on  the  further 
side  the  Fratry,  where  the  monks  ate  their  meals  in  silence. 
East  of  the  lawn  was  the  Chapter-house,  or  council- 
chamber  of  the  monastery,  and  the  Guest-house,  in  which 
any  visitor  was  made  welcome  for  forty-eight  hours. 
West  of  the  lawn  was  the  long  bare  Dormitory  and  the 
Infirmary,  and  the  Almonry,  where  food  and  clothing  were 
doled  out  to  the  poor.  Round  the  inner  side  of  all  these 


42 


A  Cistercian  Monastery. 


buildings,  linking  them  together,  ran  the  cloisters  in 
which  most  of  the  work  of  the  house  was  done.  Here 
each  monk  had  his  own  seat  ;  here,  winter  and  summer 
alike,  in  spite  of  the  draughts  that  came  in  through  the 
unglazed  openings,  he  sat  and  wrote  and  studied ;  here 
the  novice-master  trained  the  novices  and  the  cantor 
taught  his  chanting  ;  here  the  cellarer  and  the  chamber- 


lain  made  up  their  accounts.  The  whole  settlement  was 
surrounded  by  a  ten-foot  wall.  Outside  this  a  new  vil¬ 
lage  gradually  sprang  up — Monksland  was  the  name 
people  gave  it — in  which  the  servants  and  retainers  of 
the  monastery  lived,  and  a  new  road  was  trodden  through 
the  forest  by  travellers,  who  turned  aside  to  seek  the 
monks’  hospitality.  Indeed  so  many  travellers  turned 
in  that  direction,  that  within  a  few  years  the  monastery 
was  almost  bankrupt ;  and,  to  extricate  it  from  its  diffi¬ 
culties,  Nigel  endowed  it  with  the  tithes  of  Durford. 
John,  the  priest,  ceased  to  be  rector  of  the  parish  :  he  be¬ 
came  merely  the  vicar  or  representative  of  the  abbey  ; 
seven-eighths  of  his  income  was  appropriated  by  the 
monks,  and  he  was  left  to  live,  as  best  he  could,  on  the 
lesser  tithes,  the  funeral  fees,  and  small  casual  offer¬ 
ings.  And  this  was  no  isolated  case.  The  Cistercians 
were  doing  the  same  thing  throughout  the  whole  of 
England. 


Stephen  the  Feeble  was  succeeded  (1154)  by  strong- 
minded  Henry  II,  and  then  came  another  stage 
in  the  struggle  between  Church  and  State.  In 
1162  all  Durford  was  scandalized  by  the  news 
that,  “  in  spite  of  the  protest  of  the  whole  realm 
and  the  groaning  of  the  Church  of  God,”  the 
King  had  constrained  the  monks  of  Canterbury  to  elect 
his  chancellor  as  archbishop.  Thomas  Becket  was  a 
skilful  diplomatist,  a  dashing  and  successful  soldier,  but 
his  whole  life  had  been  entirely  secular,  and  moreover  he 


Becket 

and 

Benefit 

of 

Clergy. 


Becket  made  Primate. 


43 


was  only  in  deacon’s  orders.  But  he  was  not  the  man 
to  do  anything  by  halves.  Now  that  he  was  a  bishop 


An  Ecclesiastical  Court. 

From  a  MS.  in  British  Museum.  MS.  Add.  15274. 


he  did  with  vehemence  all  that  the  ideal  bishop  of  those 
days  was  expected  to  do.  He  rose  before  dawn.  He 


44 


Rival  Jurisdictions. 


was  scourged  daily.  He  caused  his  food  to  be  boiled  in 
fennel,  to  render  it  unpalatable.  He  wore  a  hair-shirt 
next  his  skin,  and  rejoiced  when  it  became  infested  with 
vermin.  Above  all,  he  became  an  unbending  champion 
of  the  papal  idea  of  the  rights  of  the  Church.  Now 
Henry  was  striving  to  reorganize  justice  after  Stephen’s 
anarchy,  and  the  chief  obstacle  in  his  way  was  the  exist¬ 
ence  of  the  ecclesiastical  courts.  These  claimed  to  decide, 
not  only  Church  questions  including  marriage  and  wills, 
but  also  all  criminal  cases  in  which  a  “cleric”  was  con¬ 
cerned,  a  term  which  included  door-keepers  and  singing- 
men  and  all  in  minor  orders.  Punishments  in  Church 
courts  were  generally  light.  The  bishops  had  prisons, 
but  they  seldom  used  them,  as  they  naturally  disliked 
the  expense  of  maintaining  prisoners.  The  usual  pen¬ 
alties  were  penance  or  excommunication.  This  “  benefit 
of  clergy,”  as  it  was  called,  led  to  grave  abuses.  The 
judges  reported  that  in  nine  years  a  hundred  murderers 
had  in  this  way  escaped  punishment,  and  Henry  made 
the  reasonable  demand,  that  clerics,  found  guilty  in  the 
Church  courts  of  offences  against  the  criminal  law,  should 
be  deprived  of  their  orders,  and  handed  over  to  the  King’s 
judges  to  be  dealt  with  as  laymen.  But  Becket  declined 
to  surrender  a  single  privilege  of  the  Church :  and  most 
men  in  Durford  sympathized  with  him,  for  the  King’s 
judges  were  everywhere  hated  for  the  hideous  ferocity  of 
their  sentences.  Three  councils  were  held,  at  each  of 
which  the  dispute  grew  more  bitter.  Then  news  came 
(1164)  that  Becket  had  been  driven  from  the  King’s 
presence  as  a  traitor.  It  was  whispered  that  he  was 
hiding  in  the  neighbouring  village  of  Eastry.  Then  it 
was  known  that  he  had  escaped  from  Sandwich  to 
Flanders.  For  the  next  six  years  Canterbury  was  with¬ 
out  an  archbishop. 

At  last  (1170)  peace  was  patched  up,  and  Becket 
landed  once  more  at  Sandwich.  His  ride  to  Canterbury 


Murder  of  Becket. 


45 


was  a  triumphal  procession.  From  Durford  and  every 
Murder  village  on  the  road  priests  and  parishioners  met 
of  him  in  procession  with  their  crosses.  The  people 
Becket.  stripped  off  their  garments  and  strewed  them  in 
the  way.  The  air  rang  with  the  cry  “  Christ  wins  !  ” 
“The  Bride  of  Christ  conquers!”  But  the  triumph  was 
a  short  one.  Becket  had  returned  in  no  conciliatory 
mood.  Before  leaving  France  he  had  excommunicated 
the  Archbishop  of  York  for  presuming  to  crown  the 
Prince  of  Wales  in  his  absence,  a  privilege  which  he  de¬ 
clared  belonged  exclusively  to  the  See  of  Canterbury. 
When  the  King  heard  of  this  new  dispute,  he  lost  all 
self-control.  “  What  sluggard  knaves  I  have  in  my 
court,”  he  shouted  again  and  again,  “that  they  suffer  me 
to  be  bearded  thus  by  one  low-born  clerk  !  ”  Two  days 
later  the  archbishop  was  foully  slain.  Four  knights  had 
heard  the  King’s  words  and  secretly  crossed  the  Channel. 
In  the  afternoon  they  interviewed  Becket,  and  demanded 
with  threats  that  he  should  withdraw  his  excommunica¬ 
tion.  At  vespers  they  burst  into  the  cathedral  with  the 
cry,  “Where  is  the  traitor?”  The  monks  ran  right  and 
left  to  the  crypt  and  the  side-chapels,  but  Becket  stood 
his  ground.  Pausing  on  the  steps  leading  up  to  the 
choir,  just  discernible  in  his  white  rochet  amid  the 
gathering  gloom,  he  faced  the  intruders.  They  tried  to 
drag  him  out  of  the  cathedral,  but  he  had  been  a  soldier, 
and  flung  them  off,  sending  one  knight  sprawling  on  the 
floor.  Then  they  drew  their  swords  and  cut  him  down, 
and  fled,  leaving  his  body  on  the  steps  and  his  brains 
scattered  over  the  pavement. 

The  deed  was  not  only  a  crime  ;  it  was  a  blunder.  A 
s  thrill  of  horror  ran  through  the  whole  land. 

Thomas  Becket  was  at  once  regarded  as  a  saint  and 
of  Can-  martyr.  On  the  night  of  his  burial  miracles 
• '  began.  A  Canterbury  woman  was  healed  of 
paralysis  by  drinking  water  which  contained  a  drop  of 


46 


Becket  Canonized. 


his  blood.  In  all  parts  of  the  land  men  and  women 
began  to  see  him  in  visions,  clothed  in  white  with  the 
red  streak  across  his  cheek  and  brow,  restoring  to  life 
pet  lambs  and  even  plucked  ganders,  helping  to  make  the 
beer  ferment,  finding  lost  cheeses,  assisting  shipwrecked 


Penance  of  Henry  II. 
From  an  ancient  painting  on  glass. 


sailors  to  push  their  boat  off  the  rocks.  Three  years 
later  (1173)  the  popular  verdict  was  confirmed  by  the 
Pope,  and  Becket  was  canonized  as  St.  Thomas  of 
Canterbury.  The  King  realized  that  his  cause  was  lost. 
Becket  on  earth  had  been  a  formidable  opponent — Becket 


St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury. 


47 


in  heaven  was  irresistible.  At  last  1174),  fasting  and 
in  pilgrim’s  weeds,  Henry  came  to  Canterbury,  and  knelt 
with  bared  back  at  the  martyr’s  tomb,  while  the  monks 
scourged  him.  The  abuses  of  the  ecclesiastical  courts 
had  to  remain  unchecked.  Nothing  would  induce  the 
clergy  now  to  give  up  one  jot  of  the  claims  for  which  St. 
Thomas  died.  For  the  next  three  centuries  the  worship 
of  Becket  was  one  of  the  most  prominent  features  of 
English  religion.  In  Durford  Church  the  altar  of  St. 
Thomas  against  the  side  wall  had  always  more  lights 
before  it  than  the  altar  of  our  Lord.  Popular  hymns 
prayed  for  salvation  “through  the  blood  of  Thomas”. 
Popular  preachers,  in  amazing  language,  extolled  the 
virtue  of  his  blood.  “Jesus,”  wrote  one,  “condemns  all 
who  drink  His  Blood  unworthily  :  but  gentler  Thomas 
offers  his  blood  not  only  to  his  friends  but  to  his  foes. 
Let  all,  therefore,  drink  of  that  blood  who  desire  salva¬ 
tion.”  And  to  drink  of  that  blood — or  rather  of  water  in 
which  a  drop  of  the  blood  was  said  to  have  been  mixed 
— thousands  flocked  to  Canterbury.  Every  day  pilgrims 
used  to  pass  through  Durford — sick  men  bearing  candles 
exactly  their  own  height,  penitents  doing  the  pilgrimage 
barefoot  and  in  hair  shirts,  foreigners  from  beyond  the 
sea,  even  from  distant  Iceland.  Back  they  would  come 
a  few  days  later,  with  little  flasks  of  the  precious  Canter¬ 
bury  water  sewn  in  their  caps,  rejoicing  in  the  belief  that 
their  prayers  would  be  answered. 

The  Norman  Conquest  had  not  checked  the  English 
Other  ^ove  P^grima§e-  Walsingham  in  Norfolk  drew 
Pilgrim-  almost  as  many  devotees  as  Canterbury,  for  there 
a  drop  of  the  Virgin’s  milk  was  exposed  in  a 
entres.  cr^.staj  phiap  St.  Albans  (1 178)  acquired  a  new 

attraction.  A  convenient  dream  revealed  the  fact  that 
St.  Alban’s  teacher,  St.  Amphibalus — the  name  was  ob- 
vious’y  coined  from  the  Greek  word  for  a  cloak — was 
buried  three  miles  from  the  city.  The  bones  were  dug 


48 


Pilgrimage. 


up,  and  placed  in  a  costly  shrine,  and  a  priest,  who  de¬ 
clared  that  these  precious  relics  had  raised  him  from  the 
dead,  was  sent  through  England  to  advertise  their  merits. 
Durham  had  added  to  the  banner  of  St.  Cuthbert  and 


Pilgrims  leaving  Canterbury. 

Ft  cm  a  fifteenth  century  MS,  in  British  Museum.  MS.  Roy.  18  D.  II. 


the  stolen  body  of  St.  Bede  a  drop  of  the  Virgin’s  milk, 
the  basin  in  which  the  Apostles’  feet  were  washed,  and  a 
tooth  of  St.  Gengulph,  a  powerful  cure  for  epilepsy.  St. 
Swithin’s  bones  at  Winchester,  St.  Joseph  of  Arimathea’s 
thorn  at  Glastonbury  still  drew  thousands  annually.  In 


Pilgrimage. 


49 


the  valley  of  the  Alan  was  the  tomb  of  St.  David,  two 
pilgrimages  to  which  were  reckoned  as  equal  to  one 
pilgrimage  to  Rome.  At  Reading  was  the  hand  of  St. 
James  ;  at  Exeter  the  burning  bush  which  Moses  had  seen 
in  the  desert.  But  Canterbury  eclipsed  them  all  in  the 
splendour  of  its  relics.  Round  the  shrine  of  St.  Thomas 
were  twelve  complete  skeletons  of  canonized  saints,  three 
skulls,  eleven  arms,  and  four  hundred  thighs,  thumbs,  teeth, 
toes,  and  jawbones  ;  here,  too,  was  part  of  the  Bethlehem 
manger  and  of  the  Virgin’s  bed,  and  of  the  Table  of  the 
Lord’s  Supper;  here  was  Aaron’s  rod  that  budded,  and, 
more  marvellous  still,  the  actual  clay  out  of  which  God 
had  moulded  Adam.  For  saints  and  sinners,  sick  and 
strong,  rich  and  poor,  old  and  young,  pilgrimage  was 
regarded  as  the  most  effectual  of  all  the  means  of  grace. 

For  nearly  forty  years  there  was  little  to  disturb  the 
The  current  ot  Church  life  in  Durford,  save  for  the 

Inter-  departure  (1189)  of  one  or  two  of  the  more 
dlct<  restless  spirits  with  King  Richard  to  the  Crusade. 
But  in  March,  1208,  an  event  occurred  of  a  most 
astounding  character.  That  contemptible  little  scoundrel 
King  John  now  sat  on  the  throne,  and  for  some  time 
there  had  been  rumours  of  trouble  between  him  and  the 
Pope.  The  Archbishopric  of  Canterbury  was  vacant. 
The  younger  monks  had  chosen  one  man  ;  the  King  and 
the  elder  monks  had  chosen  another  (1205).  The  Pope 
had  quashed  both  elections,  and  compelled  the  monks, 
who  had  gone  to  Rome,  to  elect  Stephen  Langton  (1206), 
but  the  King  had  refused  (1207)  to  allow  him  to  land  in 
England.  So  matters  stood  on  Passion  Sunday,  1208, 
as  Durford  people  quietly  climbed  the  hill  to  church  ; 
but  there  was  no  Mass  celebrated  that  morning.  Instead, 
Osborn,  the  priest,  read  a  paper  announcing  that  the  Pope 
had  laid  the  kingdom  under  an  interdict.  The  whole 
land  was  to  be  treated  as  abhorred  of  God  and  forsaken. 
Altars  were  to  be  stripped,  church  doors  locked,  no  public 

a 


50 


The  Interdict. 


services  of  any  kind  permitted.  The  dead  were  to  be 
buried  in  silence  in  unconsecrated  ground.  For  the  first 
time  for  ten  centuries  the  voice  of  praise  and  prayer  was 
silent  from  one  sea  to  the  other,  and  this  state  of  things 
continued  for  more  than  six  years.  It  was  a  blind  and 
fatuous  proceeding.  The  work  of  the  Church  was  utterly 
crippled  ;  Christian  people  were  deprived  of  all  the  means 
of  grace ;  many  a  ploughman  never  recovered  the  habit 
of  public  worship ;  and  the  only  man  who  cared  nothing 
was  the  lustful  and  blasphemous  little  King  ;  he  never 
went  to  church,  when  the  churches  were  open,  and  the 
interdict  gave  him  an  excuse  for  confiscating  the  goods 
of  the  clergy.  It  was  even  rumoured — and  the  story  was 
believed  by  the  monkish  chroniclers — that  he  meant  to 
retaliate  by  turning  Mohammedan,  and  suppressing  the 
Christian  religion,  and  that  he  had  sent  an  embassy  to 
the  Moors  to  arrange  the  matter.  The  Pope’s  next  move, 
in  1212,  was  to  pronounce  that  John  was  deposed  from 
his  throne,  and  to  invite  King  Philip  of  France  to  carry 
out  the  sentence.  Then  John  collapsed,  like  the  craven 
that  he  was.  In  blind  panic  he  made  the  most  abject 
submission.  He  grovelled  at  the  feet  of  the  Papal 
Legate,  and  surrendered  to  the  Pope  his  kingdom  and 
his  crown.  “  Let  all  men  know,”  so  ran  his  certificate, 
“  that  the  King  has  subjected  England  and  Ireland  to  the 
Holy  Roman  Church,  and  has  given  his  territories  to 
God  and  to  the  Lord  Pope.  He  and  his  heirs  are  to 
hold  them  of  the  Lord  Pope  and  his  successors.  Publicly 
and  before  everyone  he  has  done  fealty  to  the  Holy 
Roman  Church,  and  sworn  homage  on  the  Gospels.” 
Innocent  III  had  won  what  many  generations  of  Popes 
had  worked  for.  The  Bishop  of  Rome  was  now  Lord 
Paramount  of  England.1  If  John  received  his  kingdom 

1  The  famous  first  clause  in  the  Great  Charter,  which  John  signed  two 
years  later  (1215),  “  that  the  Church  of  England  be  free,”  was  sometimes 
quoted  in  later  times  in  an  anti-papal  sense.  But  its  original  meaning 


The  Great  Surrender. 


51 


back,  it  was  only  as  a  papal  vassal,  and  on  condition 
that  he  paid  a  tribute  of  a  thousand  marks  a  year.  The 
head  of  the  feudal  system  in  England  was  now  the  Pope, 
for  the  King  had  become  the  Pope’s  man.  A  Papal 
Legate  now  took  up  his  residence  in  England.  Vacant 
benefices  were  filled  by  him  without  any  reference  to  the 
wishes  of  bishops  or  patrons.  When  Archbishop  Lang- 
ton  ventured  to  protest  he  was  excommunicated.  For 
the  rest  of  his  evil  life,  until  the  feast  of  beer  and  peaches 
freed  the  land  from  his  oppression,  John  remained  in  very 
fact  the  “  most  humble  and  most  obedient  servant  ”  of 
his  “holy  lord  and  father”.  “  Truly  believing,”  he  wrote 
to  the  Pope,  “that  the  defence  of  us  and  the  kingdom, 
which  is  yours,  is  committed  to  your  holiness,  we  do 
resign  that  care  and  anxiety  to  your  lordship ;  to  your 
holiness  we  commit  the  authority  that  we  have  over  all 
things  belonging  to  us  and  our  realm,  and  we  will  hold 
ratified  and  established,  whatever  you  shall  think  fit  to 
ordain  ”.  Nor  must  we  imagine,  as  is  sometimes  asserted, 
that  indignation  at  this  surrender  is  a  modern  sentiment. 
“Woe  to  thee,  John,”  wrote  Matthew  Paris  (c.  1236), 
“  thou  of  sad  memory  for  all  future  ages  !  Thou  wast 
free,  but  thou  hast  made  thyself  a  vassal  of  slavery,  and 
hast  involved  thy  most  noble  land  with  thee  in  the 
charter  of  slavery.  And  what  of  thee,  O  Pope !  who 
oughtest  to  shine  to  the  whole  world  as  the  defender  of 
justice,  the  guardian  of  truth — dost  thou  defend  such  a 
man,  that  all  things  may  be  sunk  in  the  gulf  of  Roman 
avarice?  Thy  doings  and  thine  excuses  for  them  are 
thine  accusation  before  God.” 

undoubtedly  was  free  from  royal  interference,  free  to  obey  the  ecclesiastical 
authorities  and  the  Roman  court,  without  any  control  from  the  civil 
government  of  the  country,  the  kind  of  freedom  that  Becket  died  for,  and 
that  the  Pope  above  all  things  desired. 


* 


4 


CHAPTER  V. 

HOW  MEN  TRIED  TO  REFORM  THE  CHURCH  FROM  WITH¬ 
OUT  AND  FROM  WITHIN. 

The  Church’s  work  was  now  hampered  by  many  tangled 
problems.  There  was  first  the  serious  political 
claims  problem  caused  by  the  claim  of  the  Pope  to  control 
the  secular  government.  Henry  III,  when  he 
came  to  the  throne,  was  only  a  child  of  nine,  and  Gualo, 
the  Pope’s  Legate,  seized  supreme  power.  When  peace 
was  made  wdth  France,  Gualo  signed  the  treaty  first  as 
the  Pope’s  representative,  and  Henry,  the  Pope’s  vassal, 
meekly  signed  below.  “  The  Kingdom  of  England  is 
known  to  belong  specially  to  the  Roman  Church.”  “It 
forms  part  of  the  patrimony  of  St.  Peter.”  “  The  English 
King  is  specially  subject  to  the  Roman  See  ”  :  these  were 
axioms  which  the  Pope  asserted  to  be  beyond  dispute. 
Many  letters  from  Pandulph,  the  next  Legate,  have  sur¬ 
vived,  ordering  provisions  for  the  Tower  of  London, 
stopping  the  payment  of  money  from  the  Exchequer 
“without  our  command  and  special  licence,”  forbidding 
the  fortification  of  Marlborough,  issuing  instructions  for 
the  release  of  prisoners,  the  custody  of  castles,  the  collec¬ 
tion  of  taxes,  and  a  hundred  other  purely  secular  matters. 
Even  when  the  King  came  of  age,  Rome  remained 
supreme,  for  Henry  was  a  timid,  superstitious  man,  who 
seldom  dreamed  of  disobeying  his  overlord  the  Pope. 

Then  there  was  the  ecclesiastical  problem,  which  arose 
from  the  Pope’s  practice  of  giving  many  English  livings 

52 


The  Four  Problems. 


53 


to  non-resident  foreigners,  and  of  crushing  with  taxation 
Papal  those  clergy  who  were  resident.  At  Durford,  for 
Exac-  example,  John  de  Guilton,  the  unfortunate  vicar, 
tl0ns-  had  always  been  a  poor  man,  for  the  monks  had 
appropriated  his  tithes,  but  now  he  was  reduced  to 
beggary  by  the  exactions  of  Rome.  The  Popes,  through 
their  constant  wars,  were  head  over  ears  in  debt,  and 
they  turned  to  the  English  clergy,  whenever  creditors 
became  pressing.  Sometimes  they  demanded  a  tenth  of 
their  income,  sometimes  a  fifth,  sometimes  as  much  as  a 
third,  and  the  money  had  to  be  forthcoming  under  penalty 
of  excommunication.  Often  an  additional  tenth  was 
claimed  on  the  plea  of  a  crusade,  and  all  the  Pope’s 
private  quarrels  were  now  termed  “crusades”;  till  at 
last  John  de  Guilton  had  to  pawn  the  Church  plate  to  the 
Jews,  and  even  then  he  could  not  raise  all  that  was 
required.  When  he  died,  Durford  was  given  a  vicar  whom 
it  never  set  eyes  on.  Martin  de  Mantua  was  a  dissolute 
young  Roman,  the  son  of  a  minor  secretary  at  the  Papal 
Court,  and  his  father  secured  for  him  the  vacant  living. 
He  was  only  one  among  hundreds  of  Italians  whom  the 
Pope  was  appointing  to  English  benefices ;  sometimes 
they  were  officials  of  his  court  for  whom  he  wished  to 
provide  an  income ;  sometimes  they  were  relatives  <of 
prominent  Romans,  whom  he  wished  to  conciliate  ;  often 
they  were  laymen  ;  sometimes  they  were  children  ;  who¬ 
ever  they  were,  they  never  set  foot  in  England,  but  their 
fees  and  dues  were  regularly  collected  and  sent  to  them 
abroad.  In  1248,  when  the  royal  revenue  was  20,000 
marks,  no  less  than  60,000  marks  was  being  sent  out  of 
the  country  yearly  to  these  foreign  pensioners  ;  by  1253 
the  amount  had  risen  to  70,000  marks. 

In  the  third  place  there  was  a  serious  moral  problem. 
The  system  of  appeals  to  Rome  had  paralysed  the  au¬ 
thority  of  the  bishops.  Many  of  the  monasteries  were 
respectable,  but  there  were  flagrant  exceptions.  Most  of 


54 


The  Four '  Problems. 


the  clergy  were  living  lives  at  least  no  worse  than  their 
\ppeais  parishioners,  but  black  sheep  were  numerous.  If 
to  any  bishop,  however,  attempted  to  prosecute  an 

Rome.  offender,  the  latter  at  once  appealed  to  Rome,  and 
the  bishop  was  powerless.  For  example,  the  register  of 
Bishop  Grandisson  of  Exeter  declares,  that  in  1332  the 
Prior  of  Barnstaple  was  “  living  a  life  enormously  dissolute, 
begetting  a  family  and  bringing  it  up  notoriously  at  the 
expense  of  the  Church  ”  ;  but  the  Bishop  failed  to  get  him 
removed.  In  1333  the  Abbot  of  Tavistock  was  a 
drunkard,  “  leading  a  life  detestable  to  God  and  man.” 
It  took  five  years  to  get  rid  of  this  man,  and  then  his 
successor  “consorted  day  and  night  with  persons  of 
suspected  morals,”  and  wasted  the  funds  of  the  monastery 
on  his  huntsman  and  his  hounds.  In  1334  the  Bishop 
tried  to  get  rid  of  the  Prior  of  St.  James’s,  Exeter,  who 
had  been  “ofttimes  convicted  of  embezzlement  and 
fornication,”  but  he  failed,  though  the  church  was  in 
ruins  and  the  services  discontinued. 

In  the  fourth  place  an  agrarian  problem  was  rapidly 
Monks  coming  to  a  crisis.  One-third  of  the  land  in 
as  England  now  belonged  to  the  monks.  They 
Land-  were  hard  landlords,  as  corporations  almost  always 
owners.  are,  slow  to  adopt  new  ideas  and  strict  in  exacting 
the  last  legal  farthing.  The  lay  landowners  were  gradu¬ 
ally  dropping  many  of  the  more  vexatious  of  the  petty 
feudal  burdens,  but  every  monastery  retained  them.  The 
monks  were  hated  by  their  tenants  and  disliked  by  other 
landowners.  Already  men  had  begun  to  ask  why  so 
much  land  should  be  wasted  in  keeping  in  comfort  a 
comparatively  small  body  of  idlers,  who  were  doing 
nothing  for  the  country  in  return.  Two  hundred  years 
before  the  Reformation  the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries 
was  a  proposal  constantly  brought  forward,  whenever 
Catholic  laymen  spoke  their  minds  freely. 

The  first  to  attempt  reform  were  the  Grey  Friars.  In 


The  Franciscans. 


55 


1224  there  passed  through  Durford  nine  mysterious 
The  strangers.  They  had  landed  at  Dover  the  day 
Coming  before ;  at  night  they  had  been  arrested  as  luna- 
of  the  tics  ;  but  next  morning  they  had  been  released 
as  apparently  harmless.  They  were  barefooted 
beggars,  friendless  and  penniless,  wearing  nothing  but  one 
grey  garment,  ragged  and  patched  with  sackcloth,  as 
befitted  followers  of  Francis,  that  young  merchant  of 
Assisi  who,  eighteen  years  before,  had  abandoned  home 
and  fortune  in  order  to  follow  literally  in  the  steps  of 
Christ.  The  Son  of  God  made  Himself  poor.  The 
Son  of  God,  to  serve  men  better,  became  a  homeless 
wanderer.  Francis  determined  that  he  would  do  the 
same.  “Sell  all  that  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor.” 
“Take  nothing  for  your  journey,  neither  bread  nor 
money  ” — these  were  commands  that  he  obeyed  to  the 
last  letter.  He  humbled  himself  and  became  one  of  the 
lowest  of  the  low.  The  lepers,  the  beggars,  the  city  out¬ 
casts  were  his  chosen  companions.  He  lived  with  them. 
He  washed  their  sores.  He  shared  their  filthy  straw  and 
their  mouldy  crusts.  The  story  of  what  he  was  doing 
fired  others  to  follow  his  example.  Soon  the  Franciscan 
Brotherhood,  as  it  was  called  from  its  leader,  spread 
beyond  Italy  to  France  and  Germany  and  Spain.  Its 
members  all  took  “  poverty  as  their  bride  ”  ;  they  were 
wandering  preachers,  ever  on  the  move,  servants  of  the 
poorest  of  the  poor,  pledged  to  possess  neither  home  nor 
books  nor  money,  begging  their  food  as  they  went  along, 
content,  when  they  failed,  to  sleep  fasting  beneath  the 
shelter  of  a  hedge.  Nothing  could  be  greater  than  the 
contrast  between  the  friar  and  the  monk.  The  monk,  to 
save  his  soul,  withdrew  from  the  world’s  wickedness. 
The  friar,  to  save  other  people,  threw  himself  into  the 
world’s  wickedest  places.  The  monks  were  governed  on 
the  feudal  system  of  carefully  graded  obedience.  The 
friars  were  a  free  democracy,  organized  by  the  citizen  of 


56 


The  Franciscans. 


a  small  Republic.  While  the  monk  was  chanting  solemn 
litanies  in  his  stately  chapel,  the  friar  was  drinking  muddy 
beer  with  Piers  Ploughman  in  the  inn,  or  telling  pithy, 
pointed  parables  to  the  beggars  at  the  convent  gates. 
And  now  nine  members  of  this  Brotherhood  had  arrived 
in  England. 

At  Canterbury  they  were  allowed  to  sleep  on  a  school- 
The  room  floor,  and  here  five  of  them  remained,  while 
Work  of  four  pressed  on  to  London.  As  soon  as  they 
th®  had  learned  the  language,  they  began  to  preach 
up  and  down  the  country  in  the  open  air.  One 
of  them  would  visit  Durford  every  two  or  three  weeks, 
and  at  first  he  had  to  endure  a  good  deal  of  rough  horse¬ 
play.  “  Some  threw  mud  at  them  ;  others  would  seize 
them  by  the  hoods,  and,  taking  them  on  their  backs, 
would  carry  them  about.”  But  soon  ridicule  changed 
to  enthusiastic  admiration.  Their  good  temper,  their 
homely  spirit,  their  cheerful  self-denial,  won  every  heart. 
Everywhere  they  were  welcome.  Multitudes  flocked  to 
listen  to  their  sermons.  A  wave  of  religious  revival 
swept  through  the  whole  land.  Recruits  pressed  eagerly 
into  the  Brotherhood.  In  thirty  years  1200  Englishmen 
became  Grey  Friars.  At  least  one  bishop  laid  aside  his 
mitre  and  one  abbot  his  staff  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  these 
shoeless  preachers.  “  Your  Holiness  may  know,”  wrote 
Grosseteste,  best  of  contemporary  bishops,  to  the  Pope, 
“that  inestimable  service  hath  been  done  in  my  diocese 
by  the  aforesaid  Brethren.  They  enlighten  our  whole 
land  with  the  bright  light  of  preaching.  Oh,  that  you 
could  see  how  the  people  run  to  hear  the  Word  of  Life, 
to  confess  their  sins,  to  be  instructed  in  the  rules  for 
daily  life,  and  how  much  profit  the  clergy  and  monks 
take  from  the  imitation  of  them.” 

But  this  was  too  good  to  last.  Their  popularity  ruined 
them.  It  was  not  easy  to  remain  humble  when  all  the 
world  was  flattering.  It  was  impossible  to  remain  poor. 


The  Franciscans. 


57 


when  Queens  and  merchants,  peers  and  peasants  showered 
Their  gifts  uPon  them.  The  roving  life  was  full  of 
Deterio  temptations,  and,  when  recruits  were  admitted 
ration.  by  hundreds,  scandals  became  frequent.  “  It  is 
terrible,’’  wrote  Matthew  of  Paris,  “  that  in  less  than 
twenty-four  years  the  Friars  have  degenerated  more  than 
the  older  Orders  have  done  in  three  or  four  centuries. 
They  have  built  dwellings  which  rival  the  King’s  palaces 
in  height.  They  daily  enlarge  their  sumptuous  houses, 
encircling  them  with  lofty  walls,  impudently  transgressing 
the  rule  of  poverty  and  violating  the  fundamental  laws 
of  their  religion.”  The  Canterbury  Franciscans  had  a 
pleasant  house  on  an  island  in  the  Stour,  and  from  this 
they  still  went  out  to  all  the  villages  round,  but  when 
Friar  John  visited  Durford,  as  he  did  about  once  a  week, 
it  was  not  to  invite  the  people  to  whole-hearted  service 
of  Christ;  he  came  as  a  mendicant,  begging  from  door 
to  door  for  the  enrichment  of  his  Order  (evading  the  rule 
which  forbade  him  to  touch  money  by  wearing  a  pair  of 
gloves) ;  he  came  as  a  quack  doctor,  offering  for  sale 
pills  and  nostrums  to  cure  all  diseases  ;  he  came  as  a 
pedlar,  hawking  pins,  purses,  knives,  and  girdles ;  his 
only  definitely  religious  work  was  to  hear  confessions, 
and  to  grant  a  cheap  and  easy  absolution  ;  for,  so  one 
contemporary  song  sarcastically  declares, — ■ 


Had  a  man  slain  all  his  kin, 

Go  shrive  him  at  a  Friar, 

And,  for  less  than  a  pair  of  shoon 
He  will  assoil  him  clean  and  soon, 

And  say  the  sin  that  he  has  done 
His  soul  shall  never  dere  (harm). 

Before  long  the  Friar  became  a  byword  for  all  that  was 
sleek  and  lazy  and  sensual  and  corrupt,  an  idle  vagabond, 
undermining  the  influence  of  the  parochial  clergy.  So 
far  from  saving  the  unhappy  Church  of  England  from 
her  troubles,  their  coming  had  only  added  another  terrible 
scandal. 


58 


Lynch  Law. 


The  next  attempt  at  reform  came  from  the  laity.  A 
Revolt  young  knight,  Robert  de  Thweng,  formed  a  secret 
of  the  society  of  “  men  ready  to  die  rather  than  tolerate 
Laity*  the  Romans  Threatening  letters  began  to  circu¬ 
late,  sealed  with  two  swords.  On  Christmas  Day,  1 231, 
Durford  was  delighted  with  the  news  that,  in  the  neigh¬ 
bouring  village  of  Wingham,  where  the  rector  was  one  of 
the  Pope’s  Italian  absentees,  masked  men  had  seized  the 
tithe  barn,  and  distributed  the  corn  to  the  poor.  For  a 
time  the  foreign  collectors  fled  for  refuge  to  the  monas¬ 
teries,  but  the  movement  came  to  nothing.  Six  years 
later  (i  237)  Matthew  of  Paris  wrote  :  “  Degraded  creatures, 
void  of  morals  and  full  of  cunning,  the  proctors  and 
farmers  of  the  Romans,  scrape  together  all  that  is  of 
value  in  the  country,  and  send  it  into  distant  lands  ”. 
In  1243  stories  were  told  of  another  secret  society,  which 
was  watching  the  seaports,  and  destroying  all  papal 
letters.  Certainly  in  I  244  a  very  much  frightened  man  • 
galloped  through  Durford  with  white  face  and  jingling 
saddle-bags.  It  was  Master  Martin,  the  Pope’s  agent, 
flying  for  his  life  to  the  sea,  to  escape  the  barons,  who 
had  sworn  to  slay  him. 

But  with  the  growth  of  Parliament,  lynch  law  of  this  kind 
Legis-  into  disrepute,  and  the  barons  and  burgesses 

lative  and  knights  of  the  shires  began  to  trust  to  their 
Action.  new  pOWers  to  check  the  crying  evils.  By  the 
Mortmain  Act  (1  279)  the  monks  were  forbidden  to  acquire 
another  acre  of  land.  Circumspecte  Agatis  (1285)  ordered 
Church  Courts  to  confine  themselves  to  spiritual  matters. 
In  1301  the  Lincoln  Parliament  sent  its  famous  letter  to 
the  Pope:  “It  is  our  unanimous  resolve  that  our  Lord 
and  King  shall  not  submit  in  any  matter  to  your  judge¬ 
ment.”  The  Statute  of  Carlisle  (1307)  forbade  ecclesias¬ 
tics  to  send  money  out  of  the  country.  The  Statute  of 
Provisors  (1351)  punished  with  imprisonment  any  one 
who  accepted  a  benefice  from  the  Pope.  The  Statute  of 


The  Black  Death. 


59 


Praemunire  (i 353;  punished  with  outlawry  anyone  who 
appealed  to  the  Roman  Courts  on  non-spiritual  matters. 
But  a  wily  ecclesiastical  lawyer  was  more  than  a  match 
for  any  Act  of  Parliament,  and,  since  the  earthiest  of 
earthy  causes  could  be  made  to  appear  “spiritual,”  the 
!  immediate  result  of  this  legislation  was  small.  One 
thing,  however,  was  accomplished.  In  1366  the  tribute 
promised  by  King  John  to  the  Pope  was  finally  repudi- 
•  ated. 

Meanwhile  Durford  folk  had  other  things  to  think  of. 
The  On  St.  Margaret’s  Eve,  I  348,  the  great  rain  began. 

1  Black  For  two  months  it  hissed  and  splashed  without 
Death.  a  sjngje  break,  till  the  corn  and  hay  rotted  in  the 
fields,  and  the  cattle  died  in  their  stalls.  When  at  last 
it  ceased,  the  whole  land  was  soaked  and  sodden  and 
steaming.  The  woods  were  full  of  monstrous  toadstools, 
green  and  black  and  scarlet.  And  then  the  plague  came. 
Will  Green  growled  one  night  at  a  boil  beneath  his  arm. 
Next  day  he  was  covered  with  purple  spots.  Before 
sunset  he  was  dead.  Alan  the  priest,  who  came  to  shrive 
him,  died  the  next  morning.  From  hut  to  hut  the  in¬ 
fection  spread,  till  the  dead  outnumbered  the  living,  and 
poor,  black,  swollen  bodies  lay  about  unburied,  and  no 
:  leader  remained — the  Ford  of  the  Manor  and  his  steward, 
the  vicar,  the  wardens,  the  clerk,  the  bellman,  all  alike 
had  perished.  From  every  village  round  the  same  story 
came.  Monks  and  clergy,  lords  and  peasants  had  been 
swept  away  by  thousands.  When  the  plague  passed, 
it  was  not  easy  to  fill  the  vacant  livings.  Probably  half 
the  clergy  in  England  had  died  at  their  posts.  Fong 
Gregory,  Durford’s  new  vicar,  was  a  hurriedly  ordained 
deacon,  who  could  not  read  Latin. 

The  Black  Death  caused  many  changes  in  our  village 
life,  but  none  greater  than  the  fact  that  Ranulf  de  Quetivel, 
the  new  lord,  found  that  he  had  not  enough  villeins  left 
to  till  his  fields,  and  was  forced  to  hire  free  labourers. 


6o 


Result  of  the  Black  Death. 


The 

Revolt 

against 

Serf¬ 

dom. 


Now  free  labourers  also  were  scarce,  and  many  lords 
were  competing  for  them,  so  wages  rose  steadily, 
till  Ranulf  and  his  friends  combined  in  Parlia¬ 
ment  to  pass  the  Statute  of  Labourers  (135  1),  mak¬ 
ing  it  a  crime  punishable  by  branding  with  a  hot 
iron  for  any  labourer  to  ask  or  receive  more  than 
threepence  a  day.  Meanwhile  the  villeins,  who  held 
land  on  condition  that  they  did  certain  tasks  on  the  lord’s 
estate,  when  they  saw  the  increased  prosperity  of  the 
labourers,  began  to  kick  against  the  old  conditions  and  to 
demand  fresh  terms.  The  result  was  constant  bad  blood, 
strikes,  and  local  riots.  Every  year  the  lords  grew  stiffer, 
the  peasants  more  stubborn  and  rebellious.  In  this 
crisis  the  Church,  like  the  nation,  was  divided.  The 
monks  and  bishops,  being  large  landowners,  regarded  the 
spirit  of  revolt  with  horror  and  amazement.  But  the 
friars  and  many  of  the  parochial  clergy  were  enthusiastic¬ 
ally  on  the  side  of  the  peasants.  The  Franciscans  had 
long  been  denouncing  wealth,  and  now  there  had  grown 
up  among  them  a  school  of  mystics,  who  taught  quite 
frankly  that  private  property  is  sin,  and  that  Churchmen 
ought  to  hold  all  things  in  common. 

They  preche  men  of  Plato  and  proven  it  by  Seneca, 

That  all  things  under  heaven  ought  to  be  in  comune. 

Many  of  the  parochial  clergy  were  influenced  by  this 
teaching,  and  amongst  others  John  Ball.  We 
Bair  would  fain  know  more  about  this  man,  the  first 
Christian  Socialist  leader  in  England.  For 
twenty  years  we  catch  glimpses  of  him  in  the  Bishops’ 
Registers,  a  mysterious,  hunted  figure,  deprived  of  his 
church,  excommunicated,  constantly  arrested  and  im¬ 
prisoned,  but  always  reappearing,  “  slinking  back,”  so  the 
Archbishop  complained,  “  like  a  fox  that  evades  the 
hunters,  fearing  not  to  preach  in  churches  and  church¬ 
yards,  using  dreadful  language”.  We  find  him  in  York- 


Rise  of  the  Free  Labourer. 


6i 


shire,  we  find  him  in  Essex,  but  most  often  in  Kent,  and 
Durford  would  have  received  more  than  one  visit  from 
him.  We  can  picture  his  tall,  black-robed  figure,  standing 


Administering  Extreme  Unction. 

From  “  The  Art  of  Good  Lyving  and  Good  Dying,"  1492. 


on  the  white  steps  at  the  base  of  the  churchyard  cross, 
surrounded  by  a  great  crowd  from  all  the  villages  round, 
thundering  forth  that  the  Pope  was  anti-Christ,  that  every 


62 


The  Peasant  Revolt. 


monastery  ought  to  be  dissolved,  that  all  men  are  brethren 
descended  from  the  same  parents,  that  social  distinctions 
are  always  sin,  the  invention  of  Satan,  that  all  who  sup¬ 
port  this  state  of  sin  must  be  plucked  up  like  tares  : — 


When  Adam  dalf  and  Eve  span, 

Who  was  then  the  gentle  man  ? 

And,  when  he  was  absent,  his  quaint  epistles  were  passed 
from  hand  to  hand  :  “John  the  Priest  greeteth  John  Name¬ 
less  and  John  the  Miller  and  John  the  Carter,  and  biddeth 
them  stand  together  in  God’s  Name,  and  biddeth  Piers 
Ploweman  goe  to  his  werke,  and  chastise  well  Hobbe  the 
Robbere,  and  take  with  you  John  Trueman  and  all  his 
fellows  and  no  more,  and  look  always  to  one  head  and  no 
more. 


John  the  Miller  hath  ground  small,  small, 

The  King’s  Son  of  Heaven  shall  pay  for  all. 

Let  right  help  might,  and  skill  go  before  will, 
Then  shall  our  Mill  go  aright. 

But  if  might  go  before  right,  and  will  before  skill, 
Then  is  our  Mill  mis-a-dight.” 


And  now  the  day  for  which  John  Ball  and  his  friends 
The  were  working  was  at  hand.  The  Poll-tax  of  1 38 1 
Peas-  fanned  all  the  smouldering  embers  into  a  fierce 

ants’  flame.  News  came  that  North  Kent  had  risen 

in  revolt,  that  Rochester  Castle  had  surrendered, 
that  the  “Army  of  the  Commons  of  England”  under 
Wat  Tyler  had  entered  Canterbury,  and  sacked  the  Arch¬ 
bishop’s  palace.  Durford,  like  other  Kentish  villages, 
was  waiting  for  the  signal  to  rise.  P'irst  the  Manor  House 
was  sacked,  and  every  court-roll  carefully  destroyed. 
Then  all  the  able-bodied  men,  with  Long  Gregory  at 
their  head,  marched  to  Canterbury  to  enlist  beneath  the 
red-cross  banner.  Two  days  later  they  set  off  for  London 
to  make  all  crooked  things  straight,  and  to  see  the  King, 
and  to  teach  him  to  be  little  brother  to  the  men  who  live 


John  Wyclif 


63 


in  cots.  Then  came  news  that  London  had  been  occupied 
without  striking  a  blow,  the  Tower  captured,  and  the 
Archbishop  beheaded  as  a  traitor.  And  then  Dur- 
ford  heard  nothing,  till  the  men  themselves  returned, 
tricked,  cowed,  and  beaten,  to  await  the  hanging,  the 
quartering,  the  disembowelling,  the  doom  of  those  who 
had  failed. 


John  Wyclif. 


Meanwhile  another  movement  was  beginning  to  make 
itself  felt.  Hob,  the  son  of  Daw  the  Ditcher,  had 
Wvclif  been  a  clever  lad.  As  choirboy  in  the  Abbey 
he  had  picked  up  a  smattering  of  Latin.  Old 
Jocelin,  the  novice-master,  had  taught  him  a  little  more. 
And  six  years  before  the  Peasant  Rising  he  had  begged 
his  way  to  Oxford,  and  become  one  of  that  noisy  host  of 


Wyclit  sending  out  the  Poor  Priests. 


John  Wyclif 


65 

lawless  chamber-dekyns,  who  split  hairs  and  cracked 
crowns  in  the  name  of  the  Seven  Sciences.  Now  he 
suddenly  reappeared  in  his  native  village,  bare-headed, 
bare-footed,  clad  in  a  dark  red  gown,  announcing  that 
he  had  become  one  of  the  Poor  Preachers,  a  new  Order 
founded  at  Oxford  by  Dr.  John  Wyclif.  One  or  two 
even  in  Durford  had  heard  of  the  fame  of  Wyclif,  the 
greatest  living  teacher  of  philosophy,  the  idol  of  the 
Oxford  students,  that  prodigy  of  learning,  whom  no 
doctor  had  ever  defeated  in  debate.  P'or  years  he  had 
been  attacking  the  corruptions  of  the  Church,  and  now  he 
was  sending  out  his  followers  to  spread  his  views  among 
the  people.  When  the  villagers  gathered  round  the  cross 
to  hear  John  Wyclif s  message,  they  soon  discovered  that 
it  was  of  a  very  startling  nature.  The  Poor  Preacher 
had  six  points  which  he  constantly  repeated  : — 

1.  All  clergy  ought  to  be  as  poor  as  Christ  himself. 
“  Prestis  schulde  by  no  way  have  eny  possescyons.” 
“All  herdis  (shepherds)  of  Christ  schulden  lyve  on  the 
almes  of  the  sheep  they  techen.”  Laymen  must  disendow 
the  Church,  and  set  it  free  from  the  wealth  that  is  chok¬ 
ing  its  spiritual  life.  In  other  words,  the  Rule  of  Poverty, 
which  St.  Francis  drew  up  for  his  friars,  Wyclif  wished 
to  impose  on  all  bishops  and  clergy. . 

2.  Monks  with  “their  great  bellies  and  their  red  fat 
cheeks”  squander  the  nation’s  wealth,  and  do  no  service 
either  to  Church  or  State.  The  true  Christian  life  is  a 
life  lived  in  the  world.  Therefore  all  monasteries  ought 
to  be  dissolved. 

3.  briars  are  the  seducing  spirits  foretold  in  God's 
Word,  who  were  to  spread  through  the  world,  when 
Satan  was  unbound.  They  draw  men  hellwards  by  the 
threefold  cord  of  bad  example,  bad  advice,  and  easy 
absolution.  They  should  be  driven  from  the  realm  and 
their  goods  confiscated. 

4.  It  is  quite  possible  for  the  Church  to  exist  without 

5 


66 


Wyclif's  Teach  ing. 


any  Pope  at  all.  If  there  must  be  one,  it  certainly  need 
not  be  the  Bishop  of  Rome.  Let  that  bishop  be  chosen 
who  is  most  like  St.  Peter  in  holiness,  poverty,  and 
humility.  It  is  clear  that  the  existing  Popes  with  their 
love  of  lucre  and  their  lust  of  power,  their  castles  and 
their  mercenaries  and  their  gaols  are  anti-Christs,  Vicars 
of  Satan,  the  Abomination  of  Desolation  sitting  in  the 
Temple  of  God. 

5.  Holy  Writ  is  the  only  true  standard  of  life  and 
doctrine,  the  supreme  and  decisive  authority  by  which 
all  Church  law  and  Church  tradition  must  be  tested. 

6.  The  Doctrine  of  Transubstantiation  1  is  absurd  and 
blasphemous.  To  worship  the  Host  as  though  it  were 
God  is  nothing  short  of  idolatry. 

But  for  all  this  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  Wyclifs 
position  was  the  same  as  that  of  the  later  Reformers. 
To  him  the  Virgin  was  still  the  sinless  “Refuge  of 
sinners,”  without  whose  help  and  intercession  no  man 
could  reach  heaven.  He  believed  that  God’s  people 
had  to  pass  through  purgatory,  and  that  their  sojourn 
there  might  be  shortened  by  masses  offered  on  earth. 
He  recognized  as  legitimate  helps  to  devotion  pilgrim¬ 
ages,  relics,  and  images,  though  he  did  not  place  any 
high  value  on  them.  He  rejected  the  doctrine  of  tran¬ 
substantiation  as  philosophically  unsound,  but,  in  spite 
of  all  that  he  wrote  on  the  subject,  it  is  hard  to  under¬ 
stand  what  he  wished  to  substitute  for  it.  His  way  of 
asserting  the  Real  Presence  of  the  Body  of  Christ  in  the 
elements  is  often,  even  in  his  latest  books,  extra- 
ordinarilv  like  the  old  doctrine  stated  in  a  different  wav. 
Above  all,  he  never  seems  to  have  grasped  the  central 

1  Viz.  that  by  the  act  of  consecration  the  bread  and  wine  are  miracu¬ 
lously  changed  into  the  Body  and  Blood  of  Christ,  so  that  no  bread  or 
wine  remain,  and  nothing  is  present  but  the  actual  Body  of  Christ,  though 
It  is  allowed  to  look  and  taste  still  like  bread  and  wine,  “  since  it  is  re¬ 
volting  to  the  nature  of  man  to  be  fed  with  human  flesh  or  with  a  draught 
of  blood 


Wyclif' s  Bible. 


67 


position  which  the  doctrine  of  Justification  by  Faith 
ought  to  hold  in  any  theology  that  is  based  on  the  New 
Testament. 

His  bold  criticism  of  existing  institutions  gave  a  useful 
The  stimulus  to  thought  and  free  inquiry,  but  the  part 

First  of  his  teaching  which  really  bore  fruit  was  his 

English  assertion  that  no  doctrine  or  rite  ought  to  be 
received  as  necessary  to  salvation  “  save  it  which 
is  grounded  in  Holi  Scripture”;  for  he  taught  this  not 
as  an  abstract  theory,  but  “he  filled  up  the  cup  of  his 
malice”  (so  Archbishop  Arundel  complained)  “by  the 
device  of  a  translation  of  the  Scriptures  into  his  mother 
tongue”.  “  He  translated  into  English,”  wrote  the  scan¬ 
dalized  Knighton,  “  that  Gospel  which  Christ  committed 
to  the  clergy  that  they  might  administer  it  gently  to 
laymen  and  infirm  persons.  By  him  it  is  becoming 
more  open  to  laymen  than  it  used  to  be  to  clerks  with  a 
fair  amount  of  learning.  Thus  the  gospel  pearl  is 
trodden  by  swine.”  The  Psalter  and  a  few  fragments  of 
the  Bible  had  before  this  been  turned  into  English,  but 
these  manuscripts  had  never  obtained  a  large  circula¬ 
tion,  and  were  in  use  mainly  in  nunneries.  Greek  and 
Hebrew  were  unknown  tongues,  even  to  the  bishops. 
The  only  Bible1  within  reach  of  the  ordinary  priest  or 
layman  was  the  Latin  version  which  we  call  the  Vulgate. 


1  Modern  Romanist  writers  have  laid  great  stress  on  a  statement  by 
Sir  Thomas  More  a  century  and  a  half  later  that  “  Ye  hole  byble  was  long 
before  his  (Wyclit’s)  day  by  vertuous  and  wel  lerned  men  translated  into 
ye  Englysh  tong”.  “  Myself  have  seen  and  can  shewe  you  Bybles  fayr 
and  old,  written  in  Englysch,  which  have  been  sene  by  the  byshope,  and 
left  in  leymen’s  handes  to  such  as  he  knewe  for  good  and  catholike  to  k.” 
But  if  there  was  such  a  Version,  why  has  no  single  copy  of  it  survived, 
and  why,  in  all  the  long  controversy  on  Bible  reading  at  the  Reformation 
was  not  constant  reference  made  by  both  sides  to  it,  the  Romanists  to 
show  the  fair  mindedness  of  the  Mediaeval  Church,  the  Protestants  to 
prove  that  their  opponents  had  once  approved  of  Bible  reading  ?  The 
only  explanation  seems  to  be  that  More  must  have  mistaken  one  of  the 
two  Wyclifite  versions  for  an  official  translation,  perhaps  because  some 
broad-minded  bishop  had  licensed  certain  scholars  to  retain  copies. 

5  * 


68 


The  Lollards. 


Now  Wyclif  and  a  few  of  his  friends  set  to  work  to 
translate  this  Latin  Bible  into  English.  Their  task 
was  not  yet  finished,  but  Hob  Dawson  brought  with  him 
the  Revelation  of  St.  John,  the  first  book  which  the 
master  himself  had  translated,  and  in  the  evening, 
when  the  rustics  gathered  beneath  Bet  Brewster’s  ale- 
stake,  he  read  aloud  awe-inspiring  portions  of  it  to 
them  : — 

“  Y  herde  a  voys  fro  heven  seiy ng,  My  people  go  ze 
out,  and  be  not  parceners  of  the  trespasses  of  it,  and  ze 
shulen  not  receyve  of  the  plagis  of  it.  For  the  synnes 
of  it  camen  unto  heven,  and  the  Lord  hadde  mynde  of 
the  wickednesses  of  it.  Zelde  i.e.  recompense)  ze  to  it 
as  she  zeldide  to  you,  and  double  ze  double  thinges  aftir 
hir  workis.  .  .  .  Wo !  wo!  wo!  the  ilke  greet  citie  Babi- 
lon  and  the  ilke  stronge  citie:  for  in  oon  hour  thi  doom 
cometh”  (Rev.  XVIII.  4-10). 

Before  long  a  change  was  noticed  in  some  of  the 
The  villagers.  Their  lives  became  stricter,  their  talk 
Lol-  cleaner,  than  that  of  their  neighbours  round.  It 
lards.  Was  known  that  these  were  the  men  and  women 
who  were  meeting  Hob  in  the  woods,  “  Lollards”  (i.e. 
whiners  or  canters)  Bet  Brewster’s  customers  called  them. 
In  every  village  in  England  their  numbers  were  increas¬ 
ing,  sober,  earnest  men  and  women,  studying  the  Bible 
for  the  first  time  in  their  own  language,  and  striving  hard 
to  mould  their  lives  and  religion  by  it.  Sometimes 
curious  dissensions  arose,  as  to  whether  a  Christian  might 
eat  pork,  or  might  work  on  Saturday  ;  sometimes  the 
district  was  startled  by  some  wild  outburst  of  zeal,  as 
when  the  image  of  St.  Katherine  was  chopped  up  to  boil 
cabbages;  but  on  the  whole  they  were  quiet  folk,  mixing 
little  with  their  neighbours,  enthralled  and  fascinated  by 
the  Bible  and  by  the  communion  with  God,  which  came  to 
them,  as  they  studied  it  together.  Wyclif  died  in  1384, 
and  no  new  leader  arose  to  take  his  place,  but  the 


The  Lollards. 


69 


numbers  of  the  Known  Men,  as  they  called  themselves,1 
grew  steadily  till,  in  1395,  they  were  strong  enough  to 
present  a  petition  to  Parliament,  and  to  nail  to  the  doors 
of  St.  Paul’s  Cathedral  and  Westminster  Abbey  the 
Twelve  Conclusions  on  which  their  petition  was  based, 
conclusions  which  show  that  in  many  points  the  disciples 
had  advanced  considerably  farther  than  their  master : — 

I.  When  the  Church  of  England  began  to  dote  after 
her  stepmother  the  Church  of  Rome,  Faith,  Hope,  and 
Charity  began  to  flee. 

II.  The  priesthood  which  began  in  Rome  is  not  the 
priesthood  which  Christ  ordained. 

HI.  The  law  of  celibacy  annexed  to  priesthood  leadeth 
to  horrible  sin. 

IV.  The  feigned  miracle  of  the  Sacrament  of  Bread 
induceth  all  but  a  few  to  idolatry. 

V.  Exorcisms  and  hallowings  of  wine  and  water,  salt, 
oil,  etc.,  are  necromancy  rather  than  theology. 

VI.  All  clergy,  both  high  and  low,  should  be  dismissed 
from  temporal  office,  and  should  occupy  themselves  with 
their  cure,  and  naught  else. 

VII.  Prayer  should  be  for  love’s  sake.  He  who  takes 
money  to  pray  for  the  dead  is  not  far  from  simony. 

VIII.  Prayers  and  offerings  to  roods  and  images  are 
near  of  kin  to  idolatry. 

IX.  Confession,  with  the  feigned  power  of  absolution, 
enhanceth  priests’  pride,  and  tendeth  to  sin. 

X.  Manslaughter  by  law  or  battle  is  contrary  to  the 
New  Testament. 

XI.  Vows  of  chastity  by  frail  women  lead  to  grievous 
sin. 

XII.  The  multitude  of  unnecessary  crafts  used  in  our 
Church  nourisheth  sin  in  waste,  curiosity,  and  disguising. 

1  From  Wyclit’s  rendering  of  1  Corinthians  xiv.  38  :  “  If  eny  man  un- 
knowith  he  shall  be  unknowun  ;  ”  (cf.  R.V.  margin).  Only  those  who 
knew  the  Bible  were  known  to  God. 


70 


The  Lollards. 


De 

Here- 

tico 

Com- 

bur- 

endo. 


The  clergy  were  now  thoroughly  alarmed,  and  Con¬ 
vocation  clamoured  for  stern  measures  of  repres¬ 
sion.  In  1401  the  statute  book  was  stained  with 
the  Act  De  Heretico  Comburendo ,  which  ordered 
every  heretic  who  refused  to  recant  to  be  “  burned 
in  a  high  place  before  the  people  to  strike  fear  into 

the  minds  of  others  ”.  Even  before  it  had  finally 

• 

become  law,  William  Sawtre,  the  first  Lollard  martyr, 
was  given  to  the  flames.  John  Badby,  a  tailor  of  Eves¬ 
ham,  was  the  next  victim.  Then  came  news  (1413)  that 
a  great  Kentish  landowner  had  been  arrested  for  heresy. 
Sir  John  Oldcastle  was  a  knight  from  the  Welsh  marches, 
who  had  married  an  heiress  of  the  house  of  Cobham,  and 
come  to  live  at  Cooling.  He  had  sent  a  Lollard  book  to 
London  for  illumination,  and  there  it  had  been  seized  by 
the  bishop’s  officers.  He  was  tried,  and  condemned  to 
death,  but  managed  to  escape  from  the  Tower,  and  sum¬ 
moned  all  his  friends  to  meet  him  in  St.  Giles’  Fields. 
“You  might  see  the  crowds,”  wrote  one  chronicler, 
“hastening  along  by  footpaths,  by  cross-ways,  from 
almost  every  corner  of  the  kingdom.”  What  they  meant 
to  do,  no  one  can  say,  for  the  King  closed  the  gates  of 
London  1414),  so  that  their  leaders  could  not  join  them, 
and  attacked  them  suddenly  on  the  night  they  arrived, 
before  any  organization  was  possible.  “  Many  of  thaym 
were  take,  and  drawe,  and  hanged  and  brent  on  gallows.” 
Sir  John  escaped  for  the  moment,  but  was  captured  later, 
and  roasted  to  death  (14 1 7)  over  a  slow  fire. 

Henceforth  the  efforts  to  crush  Lollardy  grew  still 
Later  more  drastic.  Archdeacons  were  ordered  (1416) 
Lot-  to  search  each  parish  twice  a  year  for  heretics, 
lards.  The  King  commanded  sheriffs  and  justices  to 
help  in  the  hunt.  The  whole  movement  was  driven 
underground,  but  it  did  not  cease.  William  Taylor,  a 
priest  of  Oxford,  was  burnt  in  1422  ;  Robert  Hoke, 
another  priest,  suffered  in  1425.  In  1428  the  Arch- 


The  Lollards . 


71 


bishop  called  a  Council  in  London  to  discuss  the  alarm¬ 
ing  growth  of  heresy,  and  a  priest  named  William  Whyte 
was  burned  at  Norwich  for  teaching  that  all  good  men 
have  priestly  powers,  that  a  good  layman  may  consecrate 
the  Eucharist,  that  priestly  absolution  and  auricular  con¬ 
fession  are  unnecessary,  that  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament 
the  bread  still  remains.  In  the  next  three  years  (1428-3  1), 
120  Lollards  were  prosecuted  in  the  Diocese  of  Norwich 
alone.  In  1431  an  Essex  vicar  was  burnt  at  Smithfield, 
and  the  Government  was  alarmed  by  rumours  of  a  Lol¬ 
lard  rising  at  Abingdon.  In  1440  a  priest  named  Wych, 
one  of  the  Lollard  leaders,  was  burnt  on  Tower  Hill, 
and  pilgrimages  from  many  counties  came  to  the  spot 
where  he  died,  till  they  were  stopped  by  Royal  Pro¬ 
clamation.  In  1449  Pecocke  published  his  famous  work 
against  Lollardy,  “The  Repressor  of  overmych  blamyng 
the  Clergie”.  In  1455  the  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells 
complained  to  the  Duke  of  Somerset  that  his  tenants  at 
Langport  neither  “  dred  God  nor  lyve  by  Holy  Chirche,” 
but  minister  the  sacraments  among  themselves,  and  re¬ 
fuse  to  admit  a  priest.  In  1 4 5 7  the  Bishop  of  Ely  un- 
aerthed  a  Lollard  congregation  at  Chesterton  with  secret 
meetings  for  worship  and  their  own  preachers.  In  1462 
Wyllys,  an  itinerant  Lollard  preacher,  was  burned  at 
Henley,  and  at  Wycombe  thirty-eight  heretics  were  con¬ 
demned  to  carry  faggots  as  a  sign  that  they  ought  to  be 
burned.  In  1466  William  Balowe  was  burned  on  Tower 
Hill.  In  1473  William  Goose  followed  him  to  the  stake. 
In  1475  the  Bishop’s  Register  lamented  that  there  were 
many  heretics  in  the  Diocese  of  Bath  and  Wells.  In  i486 
nine  Lollards  were  put  to  penance  at  Coventry.  In  1489 
two  laymen  were  tried  before  the  Primate  for  holding 
that  the  Eucharist  is  material  bread,  and  that  every  good 
man  is  a  priest.  In  1 49 1  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln  wrote 
that  he  was  “  fatigued  and  vexed  by  many  heretics,”  for 
“  the  insane  opinions  of  the  Wycliffists  have  infected 


72 


The  Lollards. 


many  of  the  people/'  and  Richard  Petefyne  was  found 
guilty  by  the  Bishop  of  Winchester  of  teaching  that  “  the 
blessed  sacramente  was  but  a  pece  of  dowe  bakyn  and 
prentyd  betwyxt  irones”.  In  1494  Joan  Boughton,  a 
widow  of  eighty,  the  first  English  woman  martyr,  was 
burned  at  Smithfield.  In  1496  we  are  told  “this 
yere  many  Rollers  stoode  with  fagottes  at  Powles 
Cross”.  In  1498  many  of  the  bishops  were  busy 
with  heresy  trials.  There  were  burnings  in  Bristol 
and  Canterbury,  Norwich  and  Salisbury,  and  much 
faggot-bearing  elsewhere.  Twelve  heretics  “  shryned 
with  faggots  ”  stood  at  St.  Paul’s  Cross  in  1499.  In 
1500  we  have  records  of  twenty  convictions.  In  1506 
a  large  Lollard  congregation  was  discovered  at  Amers- 
ham.  Of  the  three  pastors,  one  was  burned  in  the  town 
itself,  sixty  of  his  flock  being  forced  to  bear  the  faggots, 
and  his  daughter  being  compelled  to  set  them  alight ; 
one  died  in  the  bishop’s  prison  ;  and  the  third  was  taken 
to  Buckingham,  and  burned  in  the  market-place  there. 
Of  the  congregation  many  were  branded  on  the  right 
cheek  ;  others  were  condemned  to  wear  a  painted  faggot 
on  the  shoulder  for  seven  years.  Two  years  later  (1 508) 
in  the  same  town  two  more  men  were  burned  and  thirty- 
three  branded.  Thus  for  more  than  a  century  we  catch 
glimpses  of  this  secret  movement.  We  know  little  of 
its  strength,  nothing  of  its  organization.  But  it  is  clear 
that  in  scores  of  villages  there  were  companies  of  Chris¬ 
tians  meeting  stealthily  for  worship  in  barns  and  sawpits 
and  quarries,  visited  by  wandering  preachers,  who  passed 
rapidly  from  place  to  place  with  a  price  upon  their  heads, 
maintaining  their  protest  against  superstition,  reading 
their  much-thumbed  manuscripts  of  the  Bible,  till  they 
were  able  to  repeat  their  favourite  books  by  heart,  pre¬ 
paring  the  ground  for  the  Reformation  that  was  soon  to 
come. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


HOW  DURFORD’S  SIXTH  CHURCH1  WAS  BUILT  AND  USED. 


The 
Fall  of 
the 

Tower. 

What 

one. 


In  our  fourth  chapter  we  watched  the  building  of  Dur- 
ford’s  Norman  church.  But  in  that  church  to¬ 
day  no  one  but  an  expert  can  detect  the  Norman 
work  that  remains  :  every  schoolboy  recognizes 
that  the  architecture  is  Gothic,  not  Norman, 
is  the  explanation  ?  The  change  was  a  gradual 
It  began  with  a  great  disaster  in  1222.  The  bells 
of  Wingham  and  the  bells  of  Ash  had  made  the  people 
feel  that  the  credit  of  the  village  demanded  that  they 
should  buy.  a  peal  also.  So  a  big  bell,  dedicated  to  the 
angel  Gabriel,  was  ordered,  and  cast,  and  hung.  But  the 
tower,  like  many  of  the  Norman  towers,2  was  already  far 
too  heavy,  and  the  extra  weight  brought  it  crashing 
down  in  ruins  on  the  top  of  the  chancel. 

No  attempt  was  made  to  rebuild  the  tower  for  the 
present,  but  the  gap  in  the  roof  was  covered  over, 
and  the  whole  parish  turned  its  attention  to  the 

English  task  of  restoring  the  chancel.  A  new  style  of 
Chancel  0  •  J 

architecture  had  now  come  into  fashion.  The 

old  Norman  churches,  impressive  though  they  had  been 

in  their  vast  solidity  and  rugged  grandeur  and  stern 


The 

Earlv 


1  Previous  churches  were  :  (1)  The  wattled  eglwys  of  the  ancient  Britons 
destroyed  under  Diocletian  ;  (2)  the  second  British  church  burnt  by  the 
Jutes  ;  (3)  the  first  English  church  burnt  by  the  Danes  ;  (4)  the  second 
English  church  pulled  down  by  the  Normans  ;  (5)  the  Norman  church. 

2  Norman  towers  were  constantly  collapsing,  e.g.  that  of  Winchester 
fell  in  1107,  of  Gloucester  in  1164,  of  Worcester  1175,  of  Evesham  1213, 
of  Dunstable  1221,  of  St.  Radegund,  Cambridge,  r270,  of  Ely  1321. 

73 


74 


Early  English  Architecture . 


disdain  of  ornament,  were  ponderous,  dark,  and  sombre. 
Light  and  air  were  blocked  out  by  grim,  impenetrable 
masonry.  Each  arch  and  wall  seemed  to  press  eye  and 
mind  earthward.  But  the  aim  of  the  Gothic  school  of 
builders  was  light  and  height  and  brightness,  roofs 
soaring  higher  and  higher,  windows  growing  larger  and 
larger,  arches  no  longer  round  but  pointed,  clusters  of 
slim  and  graceful  shafts  instead  of  massive  pillars, 
churches  that  would  preach  with  every  stone,  “Look  up! 

Lift  up  your  heart !  ”  This 
school  was  still  in  its  first 
stage,  the  one  which  is  called 
“Early  English”.  In  the 
new  chancel  every  line  led 
the  eye  heavenward,  especi¬ 
ally  the  lofty  roof  and  the 
slender  lancet  windows 
with  the  sunlight  streaming 
through  their  grisaille  glass, 
and  the  round  medallions 
of  St  Thomas’  miracles 
gleaming  like  precious  jewels.  And,  since  this  was  a 
mystical  age,  the  builders  made  the  walls  slant  a  little  to 
the  south,  to  suggest  the  drooping  of  the  Saviour’s 
Head  at  the  end  of  the  great  Sacrifice  ;  to  remind  all, 
who  could  read  their  meaning,  of  the  loud  cry,  “  It  is 
finished  !  ” 

The  village  then  began  to  prepare  to  build  another 
The  tower  ;  and  since  this  was  a  slow  and  very  costly 
West  business,  which  might  have  to  be  spread  over 
Tower,  several  generations,  they  abandoned  the  idea  of 
replacing  it  in  its  old  central  position,  and  started  work 
in  the  churchyard  beyond  the  western  wall.  In  this  way 
no  service  was  interrupted,  until  the  Tower  was  finished, 
when,  by  adding  a  span  to  the  nave,  they  joined  it  to  the 
Church. 


Grouped  Lancet  Lights. 


Decorated  Architecture. 


75 


The 
Decor¬ 
ated 
N  orth 
Aisle. 


Then  came  a  lull  in  church  building,  till  the  reign  of 
Edward  III,  when  the  great  revival  of  religious 
life,  which  swept  across  Northern  Europe,  found 
expression  in  Durford  (1330)  in  a  desire  to  add  a 
new  aisle  to  the  church.  The  aisle  was  built  in 
the  churchyard,  and  roofed,  and  completed,  with¬ 
out  in  any  way  disturbing  the  older  building.  When  it 
was  finished,  two  slits  were  cut  in  the  side  wall  of  the 
nave,  and  in  each  a  delicate  pillar  was  erected.  Then 
the  arch  between  them  was  constructed  stone  by  stone, 
enough  of  the  old  wall  being  cut  away  to  slip  each  stone 
into  its  place.  Not  till  it  was  finished  was  the  old 
masonry  inside  the  arch  cleared  away,  and  the  aisle  re¬ 
vealed.  Two  more  arches  completed  the  work,  and  the 
aisle  was  ready  for  consecration.  Gothic  architecture 
had  now  evolved  the  style  which  is  known  as  “  Decor¬ 
ated  ”.  Builders  and  sculptors  had  attained  a  more 
perfect  mastery  of  tools  and  materials.  The  windows 
were  no  longer  narrow  lancets,  but 
broad  openings  in  the  walls  with 
stone  partitions  flowing  up  into 
tangled  nets  of  tracery.  Each  pillar 
shows  the  zest  and  vigour  of  the 

the 


village 


craftsmen.  Here 


is 

tendril  of  a  vine  streaming  in  the 
draught  from  the  door;  here  a  saucy 
little  squirrel  sits  munching  a  nut; 
here  a  wife  is  belabouring  her  hus¬ 
band  ;  there  a  miser  is  hiding  his 
purse  ;  caricatures  very  possibly  of 
well-known  people  in  the  parish. 

But  why  was  the  last  pillar  left  unfinished  ?  Why  has 
that  angel  only  one  wing?  and  why  does  that  spray  of  ivy 
end  in  a  solid  square?  The  Black  Death  slew  the  sculptors, 
and  stopped  the  work.  When  men  began  to  build  again, 
it  was  in  a  different  style  and  a  less  exuberant  spirit. 


Decorated  Window. 


76 


Perpendicular  Architecture. 


The 

Perpen¬ 

dicular 

South 

Aisle. 


After  the  Black  Death  came  the  long  drain  of  the 
Hundred  Years’  War  with  France  (ended  1453), 
and  the  Peasant  Rising  (1 381),  and  Jack  Cade’s 
Rebellion  (1450),  and  the  desolating  Wars  of  the 
Roses  (1455-85).  It  was  not  till  England  grew 
quiet  and  prosperous  again  under  Henry  VII 
4485-1  509)  that  Durford  folk  were  able  to  think  of  further 
building  operations.  But  then  they  noticed  that  the  north 
aisle  had  made  their  church  lopsided.  Moreover,  ad¬ 
ditional  altars  were  needed  for  the  new  devotions  that 
were  now  becoming  popular,  especially  that  of  the  Five 
Wounds  and  that  of  the  Holy  Name.  So  they  decided 
to  set  to  work  to  build  a  south  aisle.  They  used  the 
beautiful  style  of  architecture  which  the  monks  of 

J 

Gloucester  had  invented,  to  which  our  modern  textbooks 
give  the  name  “Perpendicular”.  Stand  in  Durford 
Church  to-day,  and  glance  first  left,  then  right,  and  you 
will  see  in  a  moment  the  difference  in  the  style.  The 
glass-stainer  had  now  become  a  more  important  person 
than  the  sculptor,  and  the  aim  of  the  later  builders  was  to 
substitute  glass  for  stone,  wherever  this  was  possible. 
Only  just  enough  wall  was  left  to  hold  up  the  roof,  and 
everything  else  was  turned  into  window.  In  the  windows 
themselves  the  beauty  of  the  stonework  was  sacrificed  to 
the  beauty  of  the  glass,  and  the  graceful  flowing  contours 
and  curves  of  the  Decorated  tracery  stiffened  into  straight 
perpendicular  lines  dividing  the  windows  into  panels. 

The  church  had  now  become  so  broad,  that  the  old 
low  Norman  roof  looked  almost  ridiculous,  so  the 
village  boldly  took  it  off,  and  added  another  story, 
full  of  perpendicular  windows,  through  which  the 
sunlight  poured  into  every  nook  and  cranny  of 
the  building.  But  the  raising  of  the  roof  made  the  Tower 
look  squat  and  stunted,  so  a  tall  tapering  spire  was  added, 
a  great  stone  finger  pointing  heavenward,  silently 
summoning  the  whole  parish  to  seek  those  things  that 


Cleres¬ 
tory  and 
Spire. 


Perpendicular  A  rchitecture. 


/  / 

are  above  ;  and  the  fabric  of  the  church  at  last  had  the 
form  which  remains  to  the  present  day. 


Perpendicular  Window,  York  Minster. 


But  how  could  one  small  village  pay  for  all  this  build¬ 
ing  ?  The  money  was  raised  in  a  variety  of  ways. 
Lega-  The  fear  of  purgatory  brought  in  a  steady  income. 

Almost  every  mediaeval  will  contains  a  bequest  of 
some  kind — an  ox,  a  ring,  a  hive  of  honey,  a  gown,  a 


7  8 


How  the  Money  was  Raised. 


spoon,  a  girdle — “that  the  preste  be  bownde  to  say  De 
profundis  for  my  sowle  as  oft  as  he  saith  masse”;  “that 
they  remember  my  sowle  at  every  masse  by  name  ”  ;  “  that 


five  masses  be  done  for  my  sowle  every  Monday  ”  ;  “  that 
the  preste,  when  he  hath  saide  masse,  shall  stand  afore 
my  grave  in  his  albe,  and  cast  holy  water  upon  my 
grave.” 


Then  there  was  the  Pit  Money.  For  6s.  8d.  anyone 
could  be  buried  inside  the  church,  and  for  the  sake  of 
the  6s.  8d.  it  is  to  be  feared  that  wardens  often  en- 
Monev  couraged  this  odious  practice.  The  whole  church 
from  end  to  end  was  packed  with  decomposing 
bodies,  lying  in  shallow  graves  under  the  earthen  floor, 
till  nothing  but  the  perpetual  burning  of  incense  made 
it  possible  to  breathe  in  the  building. 

More  important  were  the  Miracle  Plays.  Let  us  visit 
Durford  on  the  Feast  of  Corpus  Christi.  For 

IV  j  •  i  -*■ 

Plays  6  weeks  the  village  players  have  been  rehearsing 
their  parts,  and  now  the  whole  parish  is  at 
church,  as  well  as  many  visitors.  Mass  is  over,  and  on 
a  stage  in  front  of  the  rood  loft  comes  Sir  Jonathas,  a 
Jewish  money-lender,  and  Sir  Physicus,  a  quack  doctor, 
infidelity  and  science  conspiring  to  prove  that  “the  belief 
of  Christian  men  is  false  A  woman  enters  to  borrow 


The  Miracle  Play. 


79 


money,  and  is  bribed  with  a  bag  of  gold  to  go  to  Com¬ 
munion  and  steal  the  Consecrated  Wafer.  Jason, 
Malchus,  and  other  Jews  come  in,  and  blaspheme  the 
Sacrament.  The  woman  returns  trembling  with  the 
small  white  disc,  and  the  Jews  stab  it  with  their  knives. 
“Fools  say  that  this  is  He  that  on  Calvary  was  made 
red.  Let  us  see  if  He  hath  any  blood.”  To  their  horror 
it  bleeds  profusely,  and  the  whole  stage  swims  with  gore. 
In  a  frenzy  they  try  to  destroy  it.  They  scourge  it. 
They  hang  it  on  a  stake.  They  drive  nails  through  it. 
They  try  to  burn  it  in  the  fire.  At  last  they  cast  it  into 
a  cauldron  of  boiling  oil,  but  out  of  this  there  rises  a 
life-size  crucifix,  and  the  Dying  Saviour  reproaches  them 
in  a  long  speech.  Their  shrieks  bring  in  the  neighbours, 
and  Sir  Miles,  a  Christian  knight,  kills  all  the  Jews  with 
his  sword.  “Then  shall  three  or  four  devils  snatch  them 
up,  and  carry  them  into  hell,  and  then  shall  they  make 
a  great  smoke  arise,  and  clash  their  pots  and  kettles.” 
Then  the  Body  of  Christ  again  becomes  a  Wafer,  and  is 
carried  reverently  back  to  the  Altar.  Grossly  irreverent 
much  of  the  buffoonery  would  appear  to  a  modern  mind, 
especially  the  antics  of  the  merry  little  devil  Raggomuffine 
who  was  constantly  banging  actors  and  spectators  unex¬ 
pectedly  on  the  head  with  his  bladder  ;  but  plays  like 
these  appealed  irresistibly  to  the  rustic  taste,  and  made 
the  feeblest  intellect  grasp  what  Transubstantiation  meant. 
Moreover  they  were  a  most  successful  means  of  raising 
funds.  successful  play  might  bring  in  two  or  three 
pounds,  which  must  be  multiplied  by  twelve  to  give  its 
value  in  modern  money. 

A  fourth  regular  source  of  income  was  the  Church  Ale. 
The  Just  inside  the  churchyard  stood  the  Church 
Church  House,  a  long,  low  room  with  a  large  oak  table, 
A  e*  benches,  and  an  open  chimney.  Here  many 
kinds  of  festivity  were  held  ;  the  Bride  Ales  to  provide 
a  little  fund  to  help  young  couples  on  their  marriage  ; 


8o 


How  the  Money  was  Raised. 


the  Clerk  Ales  to  raise  the  stipend  of  the  parish  clerk  ; 
the  Bid  Ales  to  help  some  poor  parishioner  out  of  a 
difficulty.  But  most  popular  of  all  were  the  five  Church 
Ales  on  Candlemas,  Midlent  Sunday,  Whitsunday, 
Allhallowmas,  and  St.  Nicholas’  Day.  For  these  every 
farmer  in  the  village  gave  his  quota  of  malt,  and  the 
wardens  brewed  large  quantities  of  sweet,  light,  hopless 
ale.  The  women  baked  cakes.  Someone  gave  a  bullock 
or  a  sheep.  Piers  Plowman  had  to  pay  to  go  into  the 
feast  ;  he  had  to  give  to  the  collection,  before  he  was 
allowed  to  leave ;  and  next  day  the  churchwardens 
cheerfully  entered  in  their  accounts :  “  Receyved  of  our 
Ale  at  Whytsonday  v.  marcs  xjd.” 

The  Hocktide  romping  also  brought  in  something. 

On  Easter  Monday  the  men  stopped  all  the 
monev  roads  with  ropes,  and  every  woman  who  tried 
Plough-  to  pass  had  to  pay  a  fine.  Next  day  the  women 
money,  turned  the  tables,  and  took  fines  from  the  men. 

And  all  those  were  duly  entered  in  the  church 

✓ 

accounts :  “  Receyved  of  Hock-money,  of  ye  men’s 

gathering  vis.  viiid.,  of  ye  women’s  gathering  viis.  iiid.” 
Plough  Monday  brought  in  rather  more.  This  was  the 
Monday  after  Epiphany,  the  day  when  ploughing  began, 
and  the  young  men  after  Mass  yoked  themselves  to  a 
plough,  and  made  a  house-to-house  collection  for  the 
benefit  of  the  church,  ploughing  up  the  ground  in  front 
of  the  doors  of  those  who  gave  grudgingly.  The  wardens 
also  made  a  few  shillings  by  hiring  out  the  players’  gar¬ 
ments  to  other  parishes,  by  hiring  out  the  church  brew¬ 
ing-kettle  for  private  use,  by  hiring  out  the  bride-gear, 
a  set  of  jewels  which  brides  might  wear  at  their  weddings, 
by  selling  honey  from  the  church’s  bees  and  wool  from 
the  church’s  sheep.  When  a  specially  expensive  piece 
of  work  was  in  progress  the  parish  agreed  to  a  church 
collection  for  a  certain  number  of  Sundays.  But  even 
so  the  village  could  never  have  built  the  church  it  did, 


Hozv  the  Money  was  Raised. 


8 1 


had  not  the  stone  and  lime  and  timber  been  freely  given 
by  parishioners,  and  a  great  deal  of  the  labour  given 
freely  too. 

One  addition  to  the  church  cost  the  people  nothing. 


Mass  for  the  Dead.1 

The  dread  ot  purgatory  led  rich  men  to  leave  land  or 

1  From  a  British  Museum  MSS.  of  about  1450  (MS.  Add.  18193).  It 
illustrates  the  crude  popular  belief.  The  surviving  relative  brings  his 
offering.  The  priest  says  Mass,  The  little  souls  scramble  out  of  the  pot 
of  Purgatory  as  the  Mass  is  said. 


6 


82 


A  Mediaeval  Church. 


money  to  pay  a  special  private  priest  to  chant  daily 
The  masses  for  their  souls.  These  chantries,  as  they 
Chantry  were  called,  were  very  common  at  the  end  of  the 
Chapel,  fifteenth  century,  and  Sir  Richard  de  Quetivel, 
who  had  gained  great  wealth  in  the  wars,  and  was  not  quite 
easy  in  his  conscience  as  to  the  way  he  had  won  it,  built 
a  beautiful  chantry  chapel  on  the  north  side  of  the  chancel, 
divided  from  the  rest  of  the  church  by  a  massive  screen, 
emblazoned  with  the  De  Quetivel  arms,  in  which  he  and 
his  lady,  carved  in  alabaster,  would  lie  side  by  side  after 
death,  while  every  morning  their  own  chantry  priest 
would  celebrate  a  special  Mass  to  plead  for  their  repose. 

Let  us  now  visit  Durford  Church  as  it  stood  in  1509, 
when  Henry  VIII  became  King.  We  pass 
yardrCh*  througL  the  thatched  lich-gate,  past  the  church¬ 
yard  cross,  past  the  ancient  yew,  which,  ever 
since  Anglo-Saxon  days,  has  provided  the  people  with 
so  much  that  they  needed — wood  to  burn  for  Ash  Wednes¬ 
day  ashes,  twigs  to  sprinkle  the  Holy  Water,  ‘ ‘  pa-lms 
to  wave  on  Palm  Sunday,  and  bowstaves  to  defend  their 
homes.  We  notice  that  all  the  graves  lie  on  the  south 
side  of  the  church — the  devil’s  territory  on  the  north  is 
reserved  for  the  village  sports — and  we  come  to  the  south 
porch.  Over  the  door  stands  the  patron  saint,  St. 
Nicholas,  Bishop  of  Myra.  Just  inside  on  the  right 
hand  is  the  holy  water  stoup.  The  porch  itself  is  large 
and  roomy,  for  here  women  are  churched,  and  part  of 
the  marriage  service  held,  and  offenders  put  to  penance. 
Above  is  a  priest’s  chamber,  filled  with  the  parish 
armour. 

The  most  striking  feature  of  the  church  is  its  blaze  of 
Interior  colour.  Every  square  inch  of  wood  and  stone 
of  the  gleams  with  barbaric  splendour.  The  wooden 
Church.  roof  is  turquoise  blue,  powdered  with  golden 
stars  ;  the  rafters  are  glaring  scarlet ;  the  pillars  are  a 
bright  vermilion  ;  the  font  a  dark  rich  crimson  ;  the  pul- 


A  Mediaeval  Church. 


33 

pit  and  the  doors  a  vivid  green  and  yellow.  The  windows 
glow  with  coloured  glass.  In  one  the  violet  devils  of 
the  Doom  are  dancing  in  ruby  flames,  as  they  torture 
little  grey-green  souls,  who  fall  from  St.  Michael’s  scales. 
In  another  the  Tree  of  the  Seven  Sins  grows  from  the 
mouth  of  hell,  and  in  the  branches  sit  purple  Pride, 
blowing  her  own  trumpet,  and  Envy  gnawing  a  human 
bone,  and  Wrath  with  her  bloodstained  dagger.  The 
great  windows  of  the  south  aisle  all  tell  the  story  of  St. 
Nicholas.  We  see  him  with  his  burly  figure  and  his 


Copyright ,  Rev.  G.  E.  Belcher. 

Wall  Painting,  Chaldon  Church,  Surrey.  (Date  about  1200.) 

broad  red  face  recalling  to  life  from  the  pickled  pork-tub 
the  limbs  of  the  murdered  children,  boxing  the  ears  of 
the  heretic  Arius,  dropping  gold  into  maidens’  bedrooms, 
feeding  the  famine-stricken  citv. 

The  tints  of  the  frescoes  on  the  walls  are  every  bit  as 
crude  and  vivid  as  the  lessons  they  suggest.  Here  is 
Hell  Cauldron,  a  red-hot  pot  bubbling  on  a  blazing  fire, 
in  which  a  group  of  typical  sinners — a  lawyer  with  a 

6  * 


s4 


A  Mediaeval  Church . 


writ,  a  friar  with  a  purse,  a  peasant  with  a  drinking-mug, 
a  woman  with  an  unclean  toad — grimace  in  awful  agony. 
Here  is  St.  Nicholas  once  more,  an  infant  three  days 
old,  solemnly  refusing  his  mother’s  breast,  because  it  is  a 
Friday.  Here  on  the  north  side,  opposite  the  church 
door,  are  blowsy  mermaids  and  pitch-black  snakes  coiling 
round  St.  Christopher’s  legs,  as  he  struggles  to  bear  the 
Christ-Child  across  the  foaming  river — a  picture  of 
marvellous  virtue,  for  one  glance  at  this  preserves  a  man 
from  sudden  death  that  day.  Here  are  three  grim-faced 
skeletons  warning  three  portly  princes  “  As  we  are,  so 
shall  ye  be  ”.  Against  the  pillars  lean  the  banners  of 
the  guilds,  richly  embroidered  with  emblems.  Here  and 
there  along  the  walls  clusters  of  twinkling  tapers  reveal 
the  presence  of  images  of  the  saints,  dressed  in  vest¬ 
ments  of  needlework. 

The  chancel  is  cut  off  from  the  nave  by  a  carved  oak 
screen,  glowing  with  rich  crimson  and  deep  bronze-shaded 
gold.  Above  it  is  the  rood-loft,  with  the  great  crucifix, 
that  dim,  pathetic  figure  with  bowed  head  and  wasted 
limbs,  black  with  the  dust  of  ages,  the  only  relic  that 
remains  of  the  pre-Norman  church.  Inside  the  loft  is 
the  “pair  of  organs,”  from  which  the  village  blacksmith 
smites  out  the  melody  of  the  plainsong  chants  by  blows 
of  his  mighty  fist. 

Through  the  rood-screen  can  be  seen  in  the  distance 
the  High  Altar,  enshrined  in  saffron  curtains,  which  are 
drawn  right  across  the  front  at  the  moment  of  consecra¬ 
tion.  No  ornaments  of  any  kind  stand  on  it,  neither 
flowers,  nor  crucifix,  nor  candles,1  but  above,  reverently 
shrouded  in  silk,  yet  clearly  visible  to  all  against  its 
bright  background  of  glass,  hangs  the  silver  Pyx,  shaped 

1  During  Mass  itself  one,  or  at  most  two,  latten  candlesticks  might  be 
placed  on  the  altar,  but  they  were  removed  with  the  other  vessels  as  soon 
as  the  service  was  over.  If  the  clerk  held  a  lighted  taper  in  his  hand,  no 
candlesticks  were  used  at  all. 


A  AT ediaeval  Church. 


S5 

like  a  dove,  which  contains  the  Sacred  Wafer,  which  all 
but  Lollards  firmly  believe  to  be  the  very  Son  of  God. 
South  of  the  altar  stands  the  statue  of  St.  Nicholas; 
north  of  it  that  of  Our  Lady  of  Pity  with  the  dead  Christ 
on  her  lap  ;  at  her  side  the  Easter  Sepulchre,  a  carved 
recess  in  the  wall,  where  the  Host1  is  laid  on  Maunday 


Photo  :  Frith  &  Co. 

Easter  Sepulchre,  Hawton. 


Thursday  with  all  the  pomp  and  ceremony  of  a  mediaeval 
funeral,  and  left  till  Easter  morning.  At  the  foot  of  the 
sepulchre  four  stone  soldiers  lie  wrapped  in  sleep ;  above 
four  lovely  angels  wait  with  faces  shrouded  by  their 
wings. 

All  round  the  church  are  other  altars ;  that  of  St. 

1  In  earlier  times  a  crucifix  was  laid  there,  but  with  the  growth  of  the 
doctrine  of  Transubstantiation  a  Consecrated  Wafer  was  substituted. 


86 


The  Ploughman  at  Church. 


Barbara  who  wards  off  thunderstorms,  and  St.  Eloy,  the 
horses’  saint,  that  of  St.  Sebastian,  the  patron  of  archers, 
and  St.  George  on  his  prancing  horse,  the  new  altars  of 
the  Five  Wounds  and  of  the  Holy  Name,  and,  still  the 
most  popular  of  all,  that  of  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury. 
The  pulpit  stands  where  it  is  to-day,  and  the  font  with 
its  gilded  cover,  but  seats  have  only  just  begun  to  make 
their  appearance ;  a  few  wooden  benches  have  been  ad¬ 
mitted  for  aged  and  delicate  women.  The  congregation 
stand  or  kneel  on  the  rush-strewn  floor. 

How  often  did  Tiers  Plowman  worship  in  his  parish 
„  church?  Three  times  everv  Sunday  : — 

a  he  ' 

Plough-  ,  God's  Service  to  hear, 

man  at  Both  Mattins  and  Mass;  and,  after  meat,  in  churches 

Church.  To  hear  their  Evesong  every  man  ought. 

Mattins  began  at  half-past  six,  Mass  at  nine,  and  Even¬ 
song  at  two,  a  short  half-hour’s  service,  the  prelude  to 
the  village  sports.  Let  us  watch  him  as  he  comes  to 
Mass.  The  Latin  Mass  was  originally  a  congregational 
service,  in  which  a  Latin-speaking  laity  could  take  their 
full  part ;  but  this  is  no  longer  the  case.  Piers  cannot 
understand  a  single  word  that  is  said,  and  the  vicar, 
knowing  that,  does  not  trouble  to  sing  loud  enough  to 
enable  him  even  to  hear.  But  Piers  has  been  taught  by 
heart  some  little  English  verses,  and  he  kneels  on  the 
floor,  and  counts  his  beads,  and  repeats  again  and  again 
the  Paternoster  and  the  Ave  Maria  : — 

Father  our,  that  art  in  Hevene, 

Hallowed  be  Thy  Name  with  meek  stevene  (voice), 

Thy  Kingdom  be  for  to  come 
In  us  sinful  all  or  some ; 

Thy  Will  be  done  in  earth  here 
As  it  is  in  Hevene  clear  ; 

Our  each  day’s  bread,  we  Thee  pray, 

That  Thou  give  us  this  same  day; 

And  forgive  us  our  trespass, 

As  we  do  them  that  guilt  us  has ; 

And  lead  us  into  no  fondyng  (temptation), 

But  shield  us  all  from  evil  thing.  Amen. 


87 


The  Ploughman  at  Church. 

<_> 

Hail  be  Thou,  Mary,  full  of  grace  ; 

God  is  with  Thee  in  every  place. 

Blessed  be  Thou  of  all  women, 

And  the  fruit  of  Thy  womb,  Jesus.  Amen. 

Sometimes  he  lifts  his  eyes,  and  looks  through  the  chancel 
screen,  and  watches  the  green-robed  priest  in  his  stiff, 
antique  vestments,  as  he  sways  slowly  backward  and 
forward  amid  floating  clouds  of  incense,  kissing  the  altar, 
smiting  his  breast,  doing  awful  and  mysterious  rites,  which 
shall  soon  bring  down  the  Son  of  God  from  heaven. 
When  the  Sanctus  bell  announces  that  the  consecration 
is  completed,  he  bows  his  head  to  the  floor  and  says  : — 

Welcome,  Lord,  in  form  of  bread  ; 

For  me  thou  sufferest  hard  deed. 

Jesu,  for  Thy  Holy  Name, 

Shield  me  to-day  from  sin  and  shame. 

And  then  he  prays  for  the  departed  : — 

To  all  that  in  Purgatory  pine, 

This  Mass  be  mede  and  medecine. 

Forgive  them  all  their  trtspass, 

Lose  their  bands,  and  let  them  pass 

From  all  pain  and  from  all  care 

Into  the  joy  that  lasts  evermore.  Amen. 

He  never  dreams  of  receiving  the  Communion  more  than 
once  a  year — the  Catechism  has  taught  him,  “  Each  man 
and  woman  that  is  of  age  ought  to  receive  once  in  the 
year,  that  is  to  say  at  Paske  1  (i.e.  Easter)” — but,  when 
Mass  is  over,  priest  and  acolyte  come  down  to  the  chancel 
gate,  and  Piers  goes  forward  with  his  fellow-worshippers, 
and  kisses  the  Pax,  a  small  silver  tablet  with  a  figure  of 
the  Lamb,  which  the  server  holds,  all  that  remains  of  the 
old  custom  of  communicants  kissing  one  another,  and  then 
he  receives  from  the  priest  a  fragment  of  the  Holy  Bread,  a 

1The  Devonshire  men,  who  rose  (1549)  in  protest  against  the  Reforma¬ 
tion,  included  among  their  demands  that  none  of  the  layfolk  should  be 
allowed  to  receive  the  Sacrament  except  at  Easter.  The  practice  of 
monthly  Communion  is  occasionally  mentioned  in  the  Middle  Ages  as  a 
miracle  of  saintliness. 


88 


The  Ploughman  at  Church. 


loaf  provided  by  the  householders  in  turn,  to  be  blessed, 
not  consecrated,  and  eaten  by  the  people  as  a  token  of 
brotherly  love. 


A  Mediaeval  Confirmation. 

From  “  The  Ati  of  Good  Lyving  and  Good  Dying,”  1492. 


But  the  service  is  not  always  so  quiet  and  simple. 
Every  festival  has  its  own  character  and  customs.  On 


A  Palm  Sunday  Service. 


89 


Palm  Sunday,  for  example,  first  the  branches  of  yew  must 
be  exorcised  and  blessed  and  censed  and  sprinkled. 
Sundav  Then  the  priest  comes  down  the  church,  arrayed 
in  gorgeous  vestments,  bearing  the  Sacred  Wafer 
in  its  silver  shrine.  Before  it  walks  Jocelyn  the  clerk, 
with  the  jewelled  cross,  and  half  a  dozen  choir  boys 
carrying  horn  lanterns.  Above  it  is  a  beautiful  belled 
canopy  borne  by  stalwart  yeomen.  Piers  and  all  the  other 
villagers,  bearing  their  “  palm  ”  branches,  fall  in  two  by 
two,  and  follow  behind.  Outside  the  porch  they  separate 
for  a  moment.  The  shrine  goes  round  by  the  west  end  ; 
the  people,  led  by  a  blood-red  cross,  turn  to  the  east. 
On  the  north  side  of  the  church  they  meet  the  Host  once 
more,  and  kneel,  and  kiss  the  ground,  while  the  choir 
sing,  “Behold,  Thy  King  cometh”.  And  then  they 
follow  to  the  churchyard  cross,  which  they  wreathe  as  for 
a  victory.  They  pass  back  to  the  church  porch,  where 
the  service  is  interrupted  by  one  of  those  odd,  incon¬ 
gruous  incidents,  so  common  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
Someone  on  the  roof  throws  down  handfuls  of  uncon¬ 
secrated  wafers,  for  which  the  people  scramble; — “  al  the 
boyes  must  be  scuffling  together  by  the  eares,  tyl  al  the 
parish  falleth  alaughing  Then  with  the  staff  of  the 
crucifix  the  priest  knocks  at  the  door,  and  everyone 
enters  the  church,  passing,  as  the  children  do  when  they 
play  at  Oranges  and  Lemons,  underneath  the  silver 
shrine,  which  the  two  priests  hold  on  high.  When  the 
Host  itself  is  borne  into  the  church,  the  large  white 
linen  curtain,  which  all  through  Lent  has  hung  from  the 
rood-loft,  entirely  concealing  the  chancel,  drops  to  the 
ground.  Then  comes  Mass,  with  every  one  watching  for 
the  Palm  Sunday  interludes,  the  singing  of  the  long  Gospel 
of  the  Passion  from  the  rood-loft,  a  tenor  taking  the  actual 
narrative,  a  bass  the  words  of  the  Saviour,  and  the  boys’ 
treble  the  mockery  of  the  Jews;  and  then  the  Prophetic 
Gospel,  sung  by  three  boys  dressed  as  Hebrew  prophets, 


90 


The  Ploughman  s  Religion. 


a  custom  which  explains  the  mysterious  entry  in  the 
wardens’  accounts  :  “  For  hiring  of  heres  (i.e.  wigs)  and 
beards  for  the  prophets,  xijd.” 

On  Shrove  Tuesday  our  friend  Piers  always  went  to 
Confession  ;  on  Rogation  Days  he  helped  to  carry  a 
banner  through  the  fields  ;  occasionally,  when  work  on 
the  farm  was  slack,  he  went  to  a  week-day  Mass,  en¬ 
couraged  by  the  thought  that  every  hour  spent  in  this 
way  was  an  hour  added  to  life,  for 

That  day  a  Man  devoutly  heareth  Mass, 

While  he  is  present,  he  shall  not  grow  old. 

Such  was  the  religion  of  Piers  Plowman.  His  father  and 
grandfather  had  done  the  same  things  before  him  ;  and  in 
I  509  most  men  would  have  prophesied  that  his  children 
and  grandchildren  would  continue  to  do  the  same.  Few 
realized  that  the  Church  was  tottering  on  the  brink  of  a  re¬ 
ligious  revolution.  Yet  at  least  two-thirds  of  the  rites  and 
ritual  of  the  Middle  Ages  depended  on  a  firm,  unfaltering 
faith  in  Transubstantiation.  If  that  small  round  Water, 
so  carefully  reserved,  were  indeed  Almighty  God,  then  all 
these  ceremonies  and  solemnities  were  natural  and  inevit¬ 
able  and  delightful.  But  the  time  had  come,  when 
unhesitating  belief  in  this  doctrine  was  no  longer  possible. 
The  long,  persistent  Lollard  propaganda  had  raised  a 
thousand  doubts  and  difficulties,  which  could  not  be 
silenced.  And  moreover  the  reading  of  the  Bible  was 
producing  a  new  type  of  religious  experience,  which 
could  find  in  the  old  type  of  service  no  adequate  or  satis¬ 
fying  expression.  A  crisis  was  at  hand. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND  GOT  RID  OF  THE  POPE, 
THE  MONKS,  AND  MUCH  SUPERSTITION. 

We  have  seen  the  Church  go  astray.  We  have  seen  re- 
„  form  thwarted.  But  at  last  there  came  a  Re- 

testants  formation  that  did  accomplish  something.  What 
before  was  its  origin?  It  is  said  by  some  that  English 
Protestantism  sprang  from  the  wish  of  an  adul¬ 
terous  king  to  get  rid  of  an  elderly  wife  ;  by  others  that 

it  was  born  in  Germany  in  the  brain  of  Martin  Luther  ; 

*  * 

but  a  glance  at  dates  disproves  both  these  assertions. 
It  was  not  till  1517  that  Luther  nailed  his  famous  chal¬ 
lenge  to  the  church-door  at  Wittemberg.  It  was  not  till 
1527  that  Henry  first  mentioned  to  Wolsey  his  wish  to 
abandon  Catherine.  But  right  at  the  beginning  of 
Henry’s  reign  the  church  authorities  were  fighting  hard 
against  a  formidable  revolt.  In  1  5  1 1 ,  for  example,  the 
King’s  secretary  wrote,  “No  wonder  the  price  of  faggots 
has  gone  up!  a  number  of  heretics  furnish  a  holocaust 
every  day,  and  the  crop  is  still  growing,”  an  exaggera¬ 
tion,  no  doubt,  but  one  based  on  a  very  grim  reality. 
Watch  how  Archbishop  Warham  spent  that  summer. 
On  2  May  he  condemned  two  men  and  an  old  woman  to 
be  burned  ;  on  the  5th  nine  men  and  four  women  were 
made  to  stand  with  faggots  on  their  shoulders  in  the 
cathedral  and  their  parish  churches,  and  to  wear  painted 
faggots  for  the  rest  of  their  lives  ;  on  the  8th  two  more 
men  were  sent  to  the  stake.  Five  heretics  were  put  to 


91 


92 


The  Later  Lollards. 


penance  on  I  5th  May,  four  more  on  the  19th,  two  on  3rd 
June.  A  woman  was  sentenced  to  wear  a  faggot  for  life 
on  26th  July,  a  man  on  29th  July,  two  women  on  2nd 


Lollard  doing  Penance. 

August,  a  man  on  the  3rd,  a  woman  on  the  8th,  three  men 
on  the  1 6th,  three  men  and  a  woman  on  3rd  September. 
Meanwhile  the  Bishop  of  London  was  burning  two  men 
at  Smithfield,  and  sentencing  twelve  men  and  women  to 


The  Later  Lollards. 


93 


wear  the  painted  faggots.  The  same  year  a  man  was 
burned  at  Norwich,  another  imprisoned  at  Oxford  ;  a 
priest  was  found  guilty  at  Worcester  ;  a  large  number 
of  men  and  women  were  put  to  penance  at  Coventry. 
Next  year  (1512)  Convocation  was  specially  summoned 
“  for  the  extirpation  of  heresy.”  Two  years  later 
1514)  the  Bishop  of  London  made  a  significant  ad¬ 
mission.  His  Chancellor  was  accused  of  murdering  a 
tailor,  who  lay  in  the  Bishop’s  prison  for  possessing 
“  books  prohibited  by  the  law,  as  the  Apocalypse  in  Eng¬ 
lish,  Epistles  and  Gospels  in  English,  and  Wyclifs 
damnable  works,”  and  the  Bishop  appealed  to  Wolsey  to 
let  him  be  tried  by  the  Privy  Council,  “  for  assured  am  I, 
if  my  chancellor  be  tried  by  any  twelve  men  in  London, 
they  be  so  maliciously  set  in  favorern  hereticae  pravitatis ,1 
that  they  will  condemn  any  clerk,  be  he  innocent  as 
Abel.”  It  would  be  wearisome  to  multiply  examples. 
It  is  enough  to  state  that  there  is  ample  evidence  that 
early  in  the  sixteenth  century  there  was  a  bold  and 
vigorous  movement  in  many  parts  of  England,  not 
merely  attacking  questionable  customs,  like  pilgrimage 
and  relic-worship,  but  vehemently  assailing  the  central 
doctrines  of  the  mediaeval  church,  transubstantiation, 
priestly  absolution,  purgatory,  and  invocation  of  saints. 
The  long  Lollard  propaganda  was  now  bearing  fruit. 

The  news  from  Germany  in  1 5 17  simply  came  as  a 
Vinage  stimulus  and  encouragement  to  men  who  had 
Gos-  been  working  for  years  for  the  same  end  in  Eng¬ 
land.  “  It  is  no  question,”  wrote  the  Bishop  of 
London  (1523),  “of  some  pernicious  novelty.  It  is  that 
new  arms  are  being  added  to  the  great  band  of  Wyclififite 
heretics.”  We  have  only  space  to  illustrate  this  move¬ 
ment  by  one  or  two  incidents.  In  1521  the  Bishop  of 
Lincoln  made  an  onslaught  on  the  Lollards  of  the  Kennet 


1  In  favour  of  heretical  depravity. 


94 


The  Later  Lollards. 


Valley.  Over  two  hundred  were  arrested,  and  the  trials 
dragged  on  for  months.  It  was  proved  that  they  taught 
that  “  in  the  sacrament  of  the  altar  was  not  the  true  Body 
of  Christ,  but  a  token  of  the  Lord’s  Bod\  ”  (Notice,  we 
have  here  no  trace  of  Luther’s  doctrine  of  consubstantia- 
tion)  j1  that  the  “worshipping  of  images  was  mawmetry 
(i.e.  Mahometry)  ”  ;  that  invocation  of  saints  was  useless, 
“What  need  to  go  to  the  feet,  when  we  may  go  to  the 
Head  ?  ”  that  “  the  Pope  had  no  power  to  give  pardon  ”  ; 
and  it  was  said  that  “they  had  their  instruction  partly 
outofWyclifs  ‘Wicket,’  partly  out  of  the  ‘Shepherd’s 
Kalendar.’  ”  Six  of  the  leading  prisoners  were  burned  ; 
others  were  imprisoned  for  life  in  various  monasteries  ; 
the  rest  had  to  stand  with  faggots  in  the  market-places 
and  churches  of  various  towns. 

In  Cambridge  during  the  same  year  (i52i)the  Univer- 
Univer-  authorities  confiscated  and  burned  many 

sity  heretical  books,  but  every  night  the  old-fashioned 
Gospel-  kitchen  of  the  White  Horse  Inn  was  filled  with 

1  prs 

eager  students  learning  from  Luther  and  St.  Paul 
truths  for  which  in  later  years  many  of  them  were  to  lay 
down  their  lives.  The  leading  spirit  was  Thomas  Bilney, 
a  warm-hearted  little  man,  who,  after  many  miserable 
yrears  of  fastings,  penances,  and  masses,  had  grasped  St. 
Paul’s  doctrine  of  the  Cross,  while  reading  Erasmus’  New 
Testament,  and  henceforth,  till  the  day  of  his  burning 
(1531),  never  rested  in  his  efforts  to  open  the  eyes  of 
others.  Latimer,  himself  destined  to  be  a  martyr,  has 
shown  us  Bilney  at  his  work  :  “  I  was  as  obstinate  a  Papist 
as  any  in  England,  insomuch  that  when  I  should  be  made 
Bachelor  of  Divinity  (1524),  my  whole  oration  went 
against  Philip  Melanchthon  2  and  his  opinions.  Bilney 

1  The  doctrine  that  the  Body  of  Christ  is  present  in  the  elements,  “in, 
with,  and  under  ”  the  Bread  and  Wine  ;  not  however  immediately  after 
Consecration,  but  only  at  the  moment  of  Reception. 

2  The  friend  and  fellow- worker  of  Luther. 


95 


The  Cambridge  Lutherans. 


heard  me  at  that  time,  and  perceived  that  I  was  zealous 
without  knowledge,  and  he  came  to  me  afterward  in  my 
study,  and  desired  me  to  hear  his  confession.  I  did  so, 
and  to  say  the  truth,  by  his  confession  I  learnt  more  than 
before  in  many  years.  From  that  time  forward  I  began 
to  smell  the  word  of  God,  and  forsake  the  school  doctors 
and  such  fooleries/’  Barnes,  who  was  martyred  in  1540, 
was  another  of  Bilney’s  converts.  He  was  Prior  of  the 
Augustinian  Convent,  and,  as  his  church  was  outside  the 
Bishop’s  jurisdiction,  he  was  able  to  make  it,  till  his  arrest 
in  I  525,  a  centre  for  “  the  new  learning”.  Here  Latimer 
began  to  preach  with  quaint  and  rugged  eloquence 
sermons  which  convulsed  the  whole  University  with  a 
storm  of  controversy,  and  many  of  the  leaders  of  the  Re¬ 
formation  in  later  years  came  from  among  the  men  who 
listened  to  his  teaching. 


Tracts 

and 

Testa¬ 

ments. 


Meanwhile  in  London  a  secret  committee  called  the 
Christian  Brotherhood,  with  subscribed  funds  duly 
audited,  and  paid  agents  travelling  backward  and 
forward  through  the  country,  was  hard  at  work 
selling  and  distributing  tracts.  For  the  first  time 
the  printing-press  was  proving  its  power  in  England. 
Several  of  Wyclifs  works  were  printed — hitherto  they 
had  only  circulated  in  MSS — some  of  Luther’s  books 
were  translated,  new  pamphlets  were  prepared,  “Fifty 
Conclusions  for  Timid  Consciences,”  “  The  Ploughman’s 
Prayer,”  “The  Sum  of  Scripture,”  even  “A  Children’s 
ABC,”  and  neither  the  Bishops  nor  the  Government  could 
discover  whence  they  came.  Then  (1525)  the  King 
received  a  warning  from  Edward  Lee,  who  became  later 
Archbishop  of  York :  “  I  am  certainlie  enformed  that 
an  Englishman  hath  translated  the  Newe  Testament 
into  English,  and  within  fewe  dayes  entendethe  to  arrive 
with  the  same  emprinted  inEnglond.  I  need  not  advertise 
your  Grace  what  infection  and  daunger  maye  ensue 
hierbie.  All  our  forfadres,  governors  of  the  Churche  of 


96 


W ill ia  m  T indale. 


Englond,  hath  with  all  diligence  forbid  and  exchued 
publication  of  Englishe  bibles.”  That  Englishman  was 
William  Tindale,  an  Oxford  scholar,  who  had  boldly 
declared  three  years  before,  when  summoned  before  the 


M- 


■i 


M: 


■KDpgui*  Copter. 

iu  -,i  ^J^crjmctxsrcwetacfiieoutolfttKljenirc/: 

■B«'of>tbyfb<f«lYt*  cbinodHKopletvfoUi 

[Ti^nro l)i/fo art tlr ib.it  t* trcracb fat  mnfW 
I  yppe/  eb  nil  fbc people  |lobt  on  the  Pjcok.  3nb 
^efprtfcmnnrrbvnaftotbcm  infittnlitubf/fnf 
lying*:  ijcbolb*-  tbcfotrcrtrcmtfoubtofotrc/ 
^ribas lie  foa-eO/ fonit-  fch  by  tb*irayt:<  |y  bex 
nnbrb*fotrUfi4nv«bOerouri:btrrppv.€>ornc 
fell  .1  po  pony  grotioe  abac it  Imp  not  modxct* 

I  tl>  'nnb  n  non  it  fptog*  v>ppiv  be  Mufeu  bob  no 
1  bepbr  off ertb.'onb  v» ben  ttK  fur.  ir no  vppe  biU 
cnntbl>eet/flnbfotlnfeoflftotyngea'r&bitbat 
way*.  Some  fell  nmoge  tblbinea/  anb  (be  i  not* 

ne0nrofenn&cb(»fi:l>li-P<»tKf*:llmS<X)t><Cl:a< 

be/nn&bjortb»fottbg<»OfruK:fontennb>ib«& 
folb  fotnc  (if ty  fotb '  fame  ;by tty  folbe,  VCbofcl 
cytt  bntbenrea  tobenrt^lerlnmbenre 
||2fnb  brs  Mfaples  cn'nni  fnybe  to  btm:  XCby 
fpenfep  t  bou  to  t  bem  in  pnrnblcs^bc  anftr  crco 
nnbfnrbertjtotbem:  -^it  .sgerenvntorouto 
f  noire  tbe  feeretrf  offtbe  ( )  nflboin  of  beri/  but 
rotbtitionotgex>f.^ro»B>bofwnererbn;btob» 

’  ’  IfnoU  bitbegtre.*att5ben?«Jlb»rc  oboubonte. 

<  (‘x  ]*„.  J5utu?bofoeretbntbnot:fe5biP)nlbetnfyn« 
j  wayeevf  tbntfametbntbebntb.  Cberfoccfbef 
'  ofey  to  tb*  ifitmhtu&f.^oitbougb  they  ft'titit 
yftnotion&bcnnngc  tb«T  benrcnotrncrbfirrn* 
f  btrflonbe.  21nOinrbSy3fulfyHcbtbep:opbefy. 
[»•*»•  cf£fnr/irbi<bptoplKlif«ytb5tt,itbyouree4tt» 

!  ycfonUbente  anbfb«Unotrn5p6be^nn&iriri> 

I  rowtvKoyeMlfi 


vf 


Page  from  Tindale’s  New  Testament. 

Chancellor  of  Gloucester  on  a  charge  of  heresy :  “  If 
God  spare  my  life,  ere  many  years  I  will  cause  the  boy 
that  driveth  the  plough  shall  know  more  of  the  Scriptures 
than  thou.”  But  he  soon  discovered  that  there  was  “  no 
rowme  to  do  this  in  all  Englonde/’  and  withdrew  to  the 


Tindales  New  Testament. 


97 


Continent.  Here  he  translated  the  whole  New  Testament 


The  Forbidden  Book. 

from  the  original  Greek,  and  so  well  was  the  task  ac¬ 
complished,  that  every  subsequent  version  1  has  simply 


1  The  Roman  Catholic  version  made  at  Rheims  is  the  one  exception. 

7 


98 


T indales  New  T estament. 


been  a  revision  of  his  work.  Even  in  the  Revised  Version 
of  1 88 1  more  than  eighty  per  cent  of  the  words  remain 
exactly  as  he  wrote  them.  The  first  pages  had  actually 
been  printed  at  Cologne,  when  the  Church  authorities 
discovered  what  was  happening,  and  he  had  to  fly  by 
boat  with  the  precious  sheets  to  Worms.  Here  the  print¬ 
ing  was  completed,  and  in  1526  copies  began  to  be 
smuggled  into  England  hidden  in  bags  of  flour  and  bales 
of  Flanders  cloth.  Strenuous  efforts  were  immediately 
made  to  suppress  them.  The  clergy  throughout  the 
whole  of  England  were  ordered  to  hunt  for  copies.  Blaz¬ 
ing  bonfires  in  St.  Paul’s  Churchyard  consumed  all  that 
were  found.  The  bishops  subscribed  among  themselves 
to  buy  up  the  books  abroad,  but  by  so  doing  they  supplied 
Tindale  with  funds  to  bring  out  revised  editions,  so  that 
“more  Testaments  were  imprinted,  and  came  in  thick 
and  threefold.” 

It  was  not  till  this  point  in  the  Reformation  that  “  the 
King’s  Matter”  began  to  have  any  influence. 
Ma®_  Henry  had  now  (1527)  been  married  eighteen 
riage  years,  but  he  had  no  son.  His  first-born  had 

Ques-  lived  seven  weeks,  his  second  had  lived  an  hour, 

his  third  was  born  dead.  And  now  he  believed 
that  he  had  discovered  the  reason.  He  had  married  his 
brother’s  wife;  and  in  the  Book  of  Leviticus  it  was 
written:  “  If  a  man  shall  take  his  brother’s  wife,  it  is  an 
unclean  thing:  they  shall  be  childless”.  True,  before 
the  marriage  took  place,  a  most  elaborate  dispensation 
had  been  obtained  from  the  Pope,  but  Henry,  who  prided 
himself  on  his  skill  as  an  amateur  theologian,  knew  that 
the  best  canonists  held  that  the  Pope  could  suspend  the 
rules  of  the  Church,  but  not  the  laws  of  God.  So  he  and 
Catherine  had  been  living  eighteen  years  in  sin  !  These 
misgivings  seem  in  their  way  to  have  been  perfectly 
genuine,  but  undoubtedly  they  were  quickened  by  the 
"fact  that  the  King  had  lately  been  “bewitched”  (the 


The  Marriage  Question. 


99 


word  is  his  own)  by  the  black  eyes  and  raven  locks  of 
Mistress  Anne  Boleyn.  He  applied  to  the  Pope,  not  for 
a  divorce,  but  for  a  declaration  that  his  marriage  had 
never  been  valid,  and  under  ordinary  circumstances  he 
would  probably  have  got  it ;  the  Roman  Church  was 
very  accommodating  to  kings  in  marriage  matters  ; 
only  a  few  years  before  a  very  similar  decree  of  nullity 
had  been  granted  to  the  King  of  France.  But  Clement 
VII  was  now  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  Emperor, 
and  the  Emperor  was  Catherine’s  nephew  ;  so  for  two 
years  the  Pope  shuffled  and  invented  pretexts  for  delay, 
till  Henry’s  very  limited  stock  of  patience  was  exhausted,, 
and  he  swore  that  he  would  be  master  in  his  own  realm, 
that  he  would  recognize  no  appeals  to  any  foreign  judge. 
Wolsey,  who  had  been  in  charge  of  the  suit,  was  dismissed 
from  all  his  offices.  The  Pope’s  name  was  erased  from 
the  service  books.  The  payment  of  any  fees  toRome 
was  stringently  forbidden.  The  clergy  were  terorized 
into  accepting  Henry,  “  so  far  as  the  laws  of  Christ 
allow”  as  “  Supreme  Head  of  the  English  Church  In 
1534  the  position  was  accepted  by  Convocation  that 
“  the  Bishop  of  Rome  hath  not  by  Scripture  any 
greater  authority  in  England  than  any  other  foreign 
bishop  ”. 

Of  course  there  was  opposition,  and  round  Durford  it 
was  fanned  by  the  visions  of  Elizabeth  Barton,  “  the  Holy 
Maid  of  Kent  ”.  She  was  a  young  farm  servant  with  clair¬ 
voyant  powers,  who  believed  that  the  Virgin  came  to  her 
The  in  her  trances,  and  gave  her  messages  for  the 
Maid  of  faithful.  For  several  years  she  had  been  the 
Kent*  pride  of  St.  Sepulchre’s  Convent,  Canterbury, 
and  the  monks  and  friars  had  used  her  revelations  with 
extraordinary  success  to  stir  up  enthusiasm  for  decaying 
superstitions.  “  Great  stinking  smokes  ”  were  made  to 
issue  from  her  chamber,  during  which  it  was  given  out 
that  she  was  in  conflict  with  the  devil.  “  She  spake  many 

ij  % 


100  Visitation  of  the  Monasteries. 

things  for  the  confirmation  of  pilgrimages  and  trentals,”  1 
and  “  she  raised  a  fire,”  wrote  one  enthusiast,  “  like  unto 
the  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  primitive  Church 
But  now  her  revelations  began  to  take  a  political  turn. 
She  declared  that  God  had  bidden  her  testify  against 
“that  infidel  Princeof  England,”  and  warn  him  that,  if  he 
dared  to  touch  the  Pope’s  patrimony,  if  he  married  Anne, 
if  he  did  not  slay  every  heretic  in  the  land,  in  seven 
months’  time  he  would  have  ceased  to  reign,  and  she  had 
seen  the  place  in  hell  that  was  prepared  for  him.  But 
the  Tudors  had  a  drastic  way  with  those  who  opposed 
their  will.  The  poor  visionary  and  her  chief  supporters 
were  arrested  (1534)  and  hanged  at  Tyburn. 

Everywhere  the  monasteries  were  the  chief  centres  of 
Vis^a  opposition.  They  were  like  hundreds  of  papal 
tion  of  garrisons  scattered  through  the  country.  But 
themon-  they  were  unpopular.  Few  regarded  them  now 

asteries  J  11 

as  homes  of  the  higher  religious  life.  No  new 
abbeys  had  been  founded  for  years.  The  ancient  houses 
found  it  difficult  to  keep  up  their  full  numbers.  Voices 
were  asking  why  seven  million  acres  of  the  nation’s  land 
should  be  wasted  in  keeping  in  drowsy  idleness  about 
seven  thousand  persons,  who  were  giving  back  in  return 
to  the  State  no  kind  of  useful  service,  and  were  suspected 
of  being  often  scandalously  corrupt.  A  century  before 
(e.g.  1405  and  1410)  Parliament  had  begun  to  call  for 
dissolution.  Wyclif  had  made  this  one  of  the  points  in 
his  programme.  Now  Henry  determined  on  a  Com¬ 
mission  of  Inquiry.  In  the  autumn  of  1535,  there  arrived 
at  Durford  Abbey  Dr.  Layton,  Archdeacon  of  Bucking¬ 
ham,  one  of  the  King’s  visitors.  He  inspected  the 
accounts,  made  a  careful  list  of  all  the  Abbey’s  property, 
had  a  private  interview  with  every  monk,  dismissed  all 
who  were  under  age,  and  departed,  carrying  his  secret 


Trental,  a  series  of  thirty  masses  for  the  dead. 


Visitation  of  the  Monasteries . 


IOI 


report  with  him.  Many  of  this  man’s  letters  and  minutes 
have  been  preserved,  and  the  first  question  they  suggest 
is,  How  could  anyone  in  a  few  hours  have  discovered  the 
personal  and  repulsive  sins  of  which  monks  all  over  the 
country  are  accused  by  name?  The  explanation  lies  in 
the  Chapter  Meeting,  which  every  monk  in  every  monas¬ 
tery  had  to  attend  daily.  Here  every  one  was  supposed 
to  confess  his  sins  in  the  presence  of  his  brethren,  and 
every  one  was  expected  to  make  known  anything  he  had 
seen  amiss  in  a  brother’s  life.  If  Layton  could  only  find 
one  monk  willing  to  talk  about  things  unearthed  in  the 
daily  Chapter,  he  would  have  no  difficulty  in  compiling  his 
terrible  Comperta.  And  in  most  monasteries  some  one 
could  be  found  who  loathed  the  life,  and  hated  his  brethren, 
and  longed  for  release.  But  are  the  reports  credible,  or 
must  they  be  regarded  as  foul  and  shameful  slanders  ? 
Let  us  grant  that  an  enemy  makes  a  bad  witness,  that 
the  visitation  was  hurriedly  conducted,  that  the  visitors 
themselves  were  often  men  of  infamous  character.  Still 
there  remains  plenty  of  evidence  from  sources  above 
suspicion,  such  as  the  Visitation  Returns  compiled  by 
the  bishops  in  the  course  of  their  ordinary  diocesan  work, 
which  proves  that  some,  at  any  rate,  of  the  monasteries 
were  quite  as  black  as  they  were  painted.  The  Abbey 
of  St.  Alban’s,  for  example,  was  one  of  the  most  import¬ 
ant  in  the  kingdom,  yet  when  the  Archbishop  of  Canter¬ 
bury  visited  it  in  1489,  he  reported  that  many  of  the 
brethren  “  neglect  the  service  of  God  altogether ;  they 
live  with  harlots  publicly  within  the  precincts  of  the 
monastery  ;  they  have  sacrilegiously  extracted  the  precious 
stones  from  the  shrine  of  St.  Alban  ”  ;  moreover  they  had 
infected  with  their  own  impurities  two  neighbouring 
nunneries.  In  1514  the  Bishop  of  Norwich  visited 
V  alsingham,  the  famous  abbey  to  which  pilgrims  flocked 
from  all  parts  of  the  world  ;  he  found  the  House  ruled 
by  the  wife  of  one  of  the  servants,  who  wore  gold  rings, 


102 


Monastic  Corruption. 


and  rode  the  prior’s  pony.  The  prior  himself  was  living 
in  adultery,  his  whole  life  utterly  dissolute,  dressing  his 

fool  up  in  a  surplice 
and  making  him  walk 
in  procession.  The 
canons  were  dissipated 
and  quarrelsome,  scal¬ 
ing  the  walls  and 
spending  the  nights 
in  taverns  in  the  town. 
The  whole  place  was  a 
hotbed  of  corruption. 
At  Norwich  Priory,  a 
Benedictine  house  of 
the  first  rank,  which 
had  absorbed  the 
tithes  of  forty-three 
livings,  the  Bishop 
Caricature  of  a  Monk.1  found  (i  5  1 4)  that 

dances  were  given  in  the  guest-house,  that  women  were 
allowed  in  and  out  of  the  monastery  as  they  would, 
that  the  sub-prior  was  a  notorious  profligate,  and  that 
more  than  one  of  the  monks  was  the  father  of  illegiti¬ 
mate  children.  In  the  same  year  the  Bishop  visited 
the  smaller  Abbey  of  Wymondham.  He  found  the 
buildings  in  bad  repair,  Mass  and  Matins  neglected, 
several  of  the  inmates  habitual  drunkards,  wanton  women 
in  the  monastery,  and  free  fights  in  the  cloister.  When 
the  Bishop  of  Lincoln  visited  (1515)  the  great  Benedictine 
Abbey  of  Peterborough,  he  discovered  the  monks  haunt¬ 
ing  taverns,  dances  held  in  the  dormitory,  and  jewels 
stolen  from  the  shrine  of  St.  Oswald,  and  given  to  loose 
women.  He  lamented  (1525)  that  the  Cistercian  Abbey 
of  Thame  was  a  scandal  to  the  whole  country-side.  No 

1  From  MS.  in  British  Museum  (Sloane  MSS.  2435,  fol.  44).  This  is 
typical  of  the  caricatures  that  abound  in  fifteenth  century  manuscripts. 


The  Monasteries  Suppressed. 


103 


repairs  were  done;  the  debts  were  immense;  yet  the 
brethren  feasted  riotously  in  the  ale-houses,  and  the 
abbot  confessed  to  being  guilty  of  the  foulest  forms  of 
vice.  At  Dorchester  he  found  (1530)  that  the  gates  of 
the  cloister  were  never  closed,  that  men  and  women  were 
admitted  at  all  hours  of  the  night,  that  the  services  were 
neglected,  and  that  half  the  canons  were  either  profligates 
or  drunkards.  From  the  bishops’  own  registers  it  is  only 
too  easy  to  prove  that  many  of  the  monasteries  were 
notoriously  and  scandalously  vile. 

In  March,  1536,  Parliament  passed  a  Bill  suppressing 

all  monasteries  with  an  income  of  less  than  £ 200 
tiorTof1'"  a  year  (i.e.  about  £2000  in  our  money)  ;  and  that 
the  summer  370  were  closed.  Two  years  later  the 
Monas-  200  priarjes  were  dissolved.  But  still  at  Dur- 

tenes. 

ford  the  daily  routine  went  on  undisturbed. 
Cromwell,  the  King’s  terrible  minister,  seemed  to  have 
forgotten.  But  Cromwell  never  forgot.  In  the  winter 
of  1538  the  first  blow  fell.  A  letter  arrived  from  the 
King  deposing  the  aged  abbot  for  “negligent  administra¬ 
tion,”  and  appointing  in  his  place  the  most  unpopular 
monk  in  the  abbey,  the  man  who  was  suspected  of 
having  given  information  to  Layton.  Then  a  few  weeks 
later  a  Royal  Commissioner  arrived,  and  the  monks 
were  summoned  into  the  Chapter-house  to  meet  him. 
With  stern  face  he  told  them  that  it  had  been  reported 
to  the  King  that  treasonable  words  had  been  spoken  in 
their  refectory  during  the  Pilgrimage  of  Grace,  the  re¬ 
bellion  that  had  flared  up  in  Yorkshire  in  defence  of  the 
smaller  monasteries.  He  bade  them  choose  between 
two  alternatives.  Let  them  show  their  penitence  by 
surrendering  their  abbey  into  the  King’s  hands,  and 
every  man  should  receive  pardon  and  a  pension.  If  not, 
the  House  would  be  seized  all  the  same,  but,  instead  of 
a  pension,  there  would  be  a  Bill  of  Attainder.  The 
change  of  abbot  had  left  them  leaderless,  and  there  was 


104 


End  of  the  Monasteries 


no  resistance.  With  trembling  hands  they  signed  the 
deed,  which  was  being  sent  round  to  all  surviving 
monasteries,  declaring  “  by  our  unanimous  consent  and 
free  will  we  have  given  to  our  excellent  lord,  King 


How  the  Abbeys  were  left. 


Henry,  all  our  monastery,  as  well  as  all  our  manors, 
meadows,  markets,  woods,  and  tenements  ”  ;  and  then 
they  dispersed,  some  to  seek  work  in  the  parish  churches, 
some  to  find  their  way  to  other  monasteries  in  Scotland 
or  abroad,  the  rest  to  slip  back  into  secular  life.  Im¬ 
mediately  the  work  of  destruction  began.  The  plate 


End  of  the  Monasteries. 


105 


was  sent  to  the  King’s  treasury.  The  bells  were  broken 
up  to  be  recast  as  cannon.  The  lead  was  stripped  from 
the  roof  and  gutters,  and  with  the  help  of  the  carved 
woodwork  melted  into  pigs  for  removal.  Windows, 
doors,  timber,  tiles  were  sold  in  lots  by  auction.  The 
massive  walls  were  left  as  a  quarry,  from  which  stones 
might  be  picked  by  payment  of  a  few  shillings.  A  little 
later  the  lands  were  sold  to  Martin  Peke,  a  London 
merchant,  who  had  made  a  fortune  by  importing  spices. 
By  the  end  of  March,  1540,  not  a  single  monastery  or 
nunnery  remained  in  England. 

The  fall  of  the  monasteries  meant  a  great  change  in 
De-truc-  ^le  P0Pu^ar  religion.  Gone  now  were  the  shrines 
tion  of  that  had  drawn  pilgrims  from  every  part  of 
Shrines.  Europe.  No  longer  could  suppliants  bring  their 
petitions  to  the  tomb  of  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury,  or 
St.  Swithin  at  Winchester,  or  St.  Hugh  at  Lincoln,  or 
St.  Cuthbert  at  Durham.  No  more  could  men  gaze  on 
the  Saviour's  blood  at  Hailes  and  Ashridge  and  West¬ 
minster.  No  more  could  they  bow  before  the  Virgin’s 
milk  at  Westminster  and  St.  Paul’s,  at  Walsingham  and 
Shrewsbury,  at  Coventry  and  Dale  and  Durham.  Gone 
were  all  the  wonder-working  images  of  the  Lord’s 
Mother,  our  Lady  of  Willesden,  our  Lady  of  Ipswich, 
our  Lady  of  Penrice,  the  gigantic  figure  of  our  Lady  of 
Worcester,  and  the  little  black  Virgin  of  Muswell  which 
had  fallen  from  heaven.  Gone  were  all  the  miraculous 
crucifixes,  the  Black  Cross  of  Waltham  which  once  had 
bled,  the  Cross  at  the  north  door  of  St.  Paul’s,  which 
once  was  heard  to  speak,  the  Rood  of  Bermondsey 
which  provided  husbands,  the  Rood  of  Grace  in  Boxley 
Abbey  which  used  to  frown  and  smile.  Alas  !  when  the 
workmen  pulled  down  the  church,  the  wires  and  pipes 
were  all  exposed  by  which  this  latter  “  miracle  ”  was 
worked  !  Gone  were  the  statues  which  healed  the  sick. 
No  longer  would  glands  be  cured  by  St.  Curig,  gout  by 


10 6  Destruction  of  Images. 

St.  Wolfgang,  headache  by  St.  Ottilia,  toothache  by  St. 
Apollonia,  sore  eyes  by  St.  Clare,  sore  throat  by  St. 
Awdrey.  No  more  would  quinsy  be  cured  by  water 
poured  through  St.  Blase’s  bones,  or  ague  by  images  of 
John  Schorn,  the  priest  who  caught  the  Devil  in  his 
boot.  No  more  would  St.  Leonard  heal  the  ducks,  or 
St.  Anthony  the  swine.  No  more  would  St.  Kynanoe’s 


Pilgrims  worshipping  at  a  Shrine. 

collar  show  who  spoke  the  truth,  or  a  woman’s  chastity 
be  proved  by  her  power  to  lift  St.  Rumbold’s  image,  or 
pecks  of  oats  be  left  before  that  bearded  virgin,  St. 
Uncumber,  in  hopes  that  she  would  hasten  the  death  of 
some  unwelcome  husband.  Every  image  “  abused  with 
pilgrimages  or  offerings  ”  was  to  be  destroyed  :  so  ran 
the  King’s  decree  (1538);  and  it  was  done,  apparently 
without  resistance,  except  in  the  backward  North. 


The  Six  Articles. 


107 


Now  it  is  absurd  to  suggest  that  even  a  Tudor,  by 
his  own  determination,  could  have  effected  such 
Sides*  a  change  in  the  religion  ot  his  subjects.  This 
revolution  would  have  been  impossible,  but  for 
the  Lollard  propaganda.  But,  if  the  Gospellers  of  Dur- 
ford  hoped  that  Henry  was  coming  round  to  their  point 
of  view,  they  were  much  mistaken.  The  King  had  de¬ 
clared  (1521)  in  the  book  that  had  won  him  the  title 
Defender  of  the  Faith,  that  Luther  was  “the  most 
venomous  serpent  who  had  ever  crept  into  the  Church,” 
and  he  remained  of  the  same  opinion  still.  He  was 
violently  opposed  to  any  change  in  mediaeval  doctrine 
or  mediaeval  ritual.  As  King,  he  objected  to  a  foreign 
bishop  ruling  the  English  Church.  As  King,  he  was 
willing  to  suppress  any  obvious  abuses,  especially  when 
their  suppression  was  profitable  to  his  own  privy  purse. 
But  Church  services  and  Church  dogmas,  these  must  re¬ 
main  unaltered.  In  September,  1539,  Durford  people 
had  a  verv  lengthy  sermon.  The  vicar  was  ordered  to 
read  from  the  pulpit  the  Act  of  the  Six  Articles — the 
Whip  with  Six  Strings  men  soon  learned  to  call  it — de¬ 
claring  that  (i)  if  anyone  taught  or  held  that  after  con¬ 
secration  there  remaineth  anv  substance  of  the  bread 

J 

or  wine  he  should  suffer  death  by  burning;  that  (2)  if 
anyone  held  that  the  Communion  ought  to  be  ministered 


in  wine  as  well  as  bread,  (3)  that  a  priest  might  marry, 
(4)  that  a  monk  or  nun  might  marry,  (5)  that  private 
masses  for  the  dead  were  not  expedient,  or  (6)  that 
auricular  confession  was  not  necessary,  he  should  forfeit 
all  his  goods  and  be  imprisoned  at  the  King’s  pleasure, 
and,  if  convicted  a  second  time,  be  hanged  as  a  felon. 
The  Pope  was  banished,  and  the  monasteries  destroyed, 
but  Protestantism  was  still  a  crime  punishable  by  death. 
In  the  first  fortnight  after  the  passing  of  this  Act  five 
hundred  persons  were  arrested  for  heresy  in  London 
alone. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HOW  THE  REFORMATION  WAS  AT  LAST  VICTORIOUS. 

While  Henry  lived,  no  more  reforms  of  a  sweeping 
^  h  character  were  possible,  but  Cranmer,  the  Arch¬ 
bishop  bishop,  was  known  to  be  in  favour  of  further 

Ci-an-  changes.  It  is  time  that  we  made  closer  acquaint¬ 

ance  with  the  man  whose  quiet  influence  guided 
the  course  of  the  English  Reformation.  In  1529,  at 
the  time  of  the  great  debate  about  Henry’s  marriage 
with  Catherine,  a  gentle,  studious  College  don  was 
lecturing  in  Jesus  College,  Cambridge.  He  had  not 
escaped  the  influence  of  the  movement  which  Bilney  had 
started,1  and  for  many  years  had  been  a  careful  student 
of  the  Bible,  and  for  four  years  had  been  praying  in 
private  for  the  abolition  of  the  Pope’s  power  in  England. 
A  chance  remark  in  a  relative’s  house,  overheard  by  the 
King’s  Secretary,  caused  him  to  be  summoned  into 
Henry’s  presence.  He  had  wondered  why  the  King  did 
not  submit  the  problem  of  his  marriage  to  the  Univer¬ 
sities  of  Europe,  which  were  the  supreme  tribunals  for 
the  decision  of  scientific  questions.  If  this  great  body  of 
expert  opinion  decided  that  he  was  a  bachelor,  there 
would  be  no  need  to  appeal  to  Rome  to  undo  a  marriage 
which  did  not  exist.  “  By  the  mother  of  God,”  ex¬ 
claimed  Henry,  “  that  man  hath  the  right  sow  by  the 
ear”;  and  his  imperious  will,  which  would  not  take  a 
nay,  dragged  the  shy,  retiring  scholar  from  his  peaceful 


1  See  page  94. 
108 


Archbishop  Cranmer. 


109 


college,  and  plunged  him  into  a  whirlpool  of  foreign 
diplomatic  missions.  Four  years  later  (1533),  greatly 
against  Cranmer’ s  own  wishes,  the  King  insisted  on 
making  him  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  “  I  protest 
there  was  never  a  man  came  more  unwillingly  to  a 
bishopric  than  I.”  His  mind  remained  to  the  end  of  the 
academic  type,  which  weighs  and  deliberates  and  hesitates, 
till  it  has  grasped  every  side  of  a  question  :  his  beautiful 
modesty  made  him  over-ready  to  distrust  his  own  judge¬ 
ment,  over-ready  to  attribute  the  highest  motives  to 
other  people.  He  was  ill-fitted  to  be  a  statesman  in 
those  tempestuous  times  ;  the  overwhelmingly  masterful 
personality  of  the  King  dominated  him  ;  and  often  we 
regret  that  he  did  not  take  a  more  heroic  line,  especially 
in  rebuking  and  refusing  to  officiate  at  some  of  Henry’s 
marriages.  But  yet  it  is  amazing  how  in  his  own  de¬ 
partment  of  the  Church  his  quiet  perseverance  always 
gained  its  end.  As  his  mind  developed,  so  he  gradu¬ 
ally  carried  the  Church  with  him,1  and  the  man  who  could 
do  this  in  the  teeth  of  the  Gardiners,  Thirlebys,  and 
Wriotheslevs  of  that  day  was  certainly  no  backboneless 
weakling. 

He  now  obtained  permission  to  try  another  cautious 
The  experiment.  This  was  the  introduction  of  a 

Great  little  English  into  the  Latin  services.  As  early 
Bible.  as  1-38,  Simon  Winch,  Vicar  of  Durford,  had 
received  an  injunction:  “Ye  shall  provide  on  this  side 
of  Easter  one  book  of  the  whole  Bible  of  the  largest 
volume  in  English,  and  set  it  up  within  the  Church, 
where  your  parishioners  may  most  conveniently  read 
it”.  But  Easter  came,  and  the  following  Easter,  and 
still  the  Bible  was  not  ready.  Cranmer  had  not  found 
it  an  easy  matter  to  provide  an  English  Bible.  Tin- 
dale  had  been  seized  and  strangled  (1536),  before  he 

1  His  only  serious  checks  were  the  Six  Articles  (1539)  and  the  King’s 
Book  (1543). 


I  IO 


The  English  Bible. 


had  finished  the  Old  Testament.  Coverdale  (1535) 
had  made  a  beautiful  translation  from  the  Latin  and 
the  German,  but  this  was  not  based  on  the  original 
texts.  John  Rogers  (1  537)  had  edited  Matthew’s  Bible, 
skilfully  combining  all  that  was  best  in  Coverdale  and 
Tindale,  but  he  had  spoilt  it  by  highly  controversial 
annotations.  Then  Cranmer  gave  Matthew’s  Bible  to 
Coverdale  to  revise  once  more,  and  at  last  he  had  a  text 
that  satisfied  him.  But  the  difficulty  of  getting  it  printed 
had  yet  to  be  overcome.  All  the  best  printing  was  still 
done  abroad,  but  the  Inquisition  seized  the  copies,  when 
they  were  completed,  and  destroyed  them.  It  was  not 
till  1540  that  there  arrived  in  Durford  an  enormous 
volume,  for  which  the  wardens  had  to  pay  12s.  ;  this 
they  fixed  to  one  of  the  pillars  by  an  iron  chain,  and  left 
it  there  on  a  wooden  desk  for  any  to  read  who  would. 
“  It  was  wonderful  to  see  with  what  joy  this  book  was 
received,  not  only  among  the  learneder  sort,  and  those 
that  were  noted  for  lovers  of  the  Reformation,  but 
generally  all  England  over  among  vulgar  and  common 
people.  Even  little  boys  flocked  among  the  rest  to  hear 
portions  read.” 

Three  years  later  (i  543)  an  order  came  that  a  chapter 
English  from  this  English  Bible  was  to  be  read  aloud  by 
in  the  the  Vicar  in  the  middle  of  the  Latin  service. 
Ser-  Next  year  the  harvest  failed,  and  an  attempt 
was  made  to  revive  the  old  processional  litanies 
through  the  fields ;  but  it  was  found  that  the  people  had 
forgotten  the  Latin  responses,  so  Cranmer  was  allowed  to 
draw  up  an  English  litany.  This  was  a  task  in  which  he 
appeared  at  his  very  best.  His  deep  piety,  his  wide  learn¬ 
ing,  and  exquisite  ear  for  language  made  him  without  a 
rival  as  a  prayer-writer.  He  took  the  old  Sarum  Litany, 
enriched  it  with  petitions  from  many  sources,  Latin,  Greek, 
and  German,  and  produced  the  service  as  we  know  it  at  the 
present  day,  save  that  it  contained  petitions  to  the  saints 


The  English  Litany. 


1 1 1 


to  pray  for  us,  and  a  clause  asking  for  deliverance  from 
“detestable  enormities”  of  the  Bishop  of  Rome.  But  it 
might  not  be  used  inside  the  churches.  It  was  written 
to  be  sung  as  an  open-air  processional. 


Archbishop  Cranmer. 


In  154/  Henry  VIII  died,  commending  his  soul  to 
St.  Mary,  and  leaving  money  for  masses  “  to  be 

■r'  1  r  1  "  ^  * 

^  award  sayd  perpetuelly,  while  the  woorld  shall  endure 

Most  of  the  Council,  who  misgoverned  the  country 
in  the  name  of  his  little  son  Edward  VI,  cared  little  for 
religion,  but  they  saw  that  the  future  of  the  Church  lay 
with  the  reforming  party,  and  they  determined  to  give 
a  free  hand  to  Cranmer.  He  was  a  man  wnose  views 
had  developed  slowly.  “  Little  by  little,”  he  said,  “  I 
put  away  my  former  ignorance  As  God  of  His  mercy 


I  12 


The  Th  ree  Pa  rties. 


gave  me  light,  so  through  grace  I  opened  mine  eyes  to 
receive  it.”  And  now  he  had  reached  a  theological 
position  not  unlike  that  of  Luther.  At  Durford,  Simon 
Winch  had  been  vicar  for  many  years,  a  cheerful,  easy¬ 
going  man,  no  theologian,  no  active  propagandist  of  any 
faith,  but  a  genial  church  official,  conducting  services, 
administering  sacraments,  hearing  confessions,  shriving 
the  dying,  anxious  to  live  at  peace  with  all  men  and  to 
avoid  controversy.  His  parishioners  were  divided  into 
three  classes.  Some,  and  among  them  the  De  Quetivels, 
clung  fiercely  to  the  old  ceremonies  ;  others — and  of 
these  Martin  Peke,  the  London  merchant,  was  the  leader 
— chafed  at  the  slow  progress  of  reform,  and  called  for 
extreme  measures.  The  mass  of  the  villagers  were, 
however,  men  much  like  their  vicar,  regarding  heresy  as 
disreputable,  but  sufficiently  touched  by  the  Lollard 
teaching  to  be  rather  sceptical  as  to  the  use  of  many 
of  the  ancient  customs,  willing  on  the  whole  to  let 
bishops  and  Government  do  their  thinking  for  them,  and 
to  accept  their  decisions  with  grumbling  but  without  re¬ 
sistance. 

But  now  changes  began  to  come  with  bewildering 
rapidity.  Winch  was  summoned  to  Wingham  to 
meet  the  King’s  visitors,  and  he  returned  with  a 
Book  of  Homilies  and  a  big  list  of  Injunctions. 
He  was  a  man  who  was  always  willing  to  obey 
those  in  authority,  but  this  time  they  had  set  him 
a  task  both  difficult  and  distasteful.  Even  the  reading 
of  one  of  the  homilies  every  week  at  Mass  proved  by  no 
means  an  easy  matter.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  the  village 
lads,  knowing  that  they  had  De  Quetivel  behind  them, 
made  such  a  “shovelling  of  feet,  such  huzzing  and  buzz¬ 
ing,  that  nothing  could  be  heard  ”.  But  some  of  the  other 
Injunctions  were  far  more  disagreeable.  The  crucifix  in 
the  rood-loft  was  to  be  sawn  down  and  destroyed.  The 
quaint  old  frescoes  on  the  walls  were  to  be  blotted  out 


The 

Purging 
of  the 
Chur¬ 
ches. 


The  Purging  of  the  Churches.  1 1 3 

with  white  lime.  The  stained  glass  windows  gleaming 
with  the  legends  of  a  score  of  saints  were  to  be  demolished. 
In  every  churchwarden’s  accounts  in  England  appeared 
such  items  as  these  : — 

For  whytyng  the  churche  .......  £6  13  2 

T-o  simon  synckler  for  his  cost  in  rvdynge  to  London  when  we 

sold  the  great  crosse  .......  3  0 

To  harry  the  glassyer  for  all  his  werke  .  .  .  .  451 

Reed,  for  the  great  crosse  sold  at  London  .  .  .  g  10  o 

Even  now  we  can  hardly  think  of  such  havoc  without  a 
pang  of  regret.  But  Cranmer  was  no  Vandal.  He  knew 
that  nothing  less  than  this  would  kill  the  old  superstitions. 
Belief  in  purgatory  would  never  die  so  long  as  the  walls 
of  every  church  displayed  its  torments  and  its  terrors. 
The  worship  of  the  saints  would  linger  on,  if  ten  thousand 
windows  were  allowed  to  proclaim  the  legends  of  their 
miracles  and  mercies.  If  the  choice  lay  between  pure 
religion  and  the  preservation  of  certain  interesting 
archaeological  curiosities,  there  could  be  no  doubt  which 
it  was  right  to  sacrifice,  even  though  it  meant  a  shock  to 
the  feelings  of  old-fashioned  folk  in  the  villages.  And 
this  was  only  the  beginning  of  the  end.  In  January 
(1548)  came  an  order  from  Cranmer  that  certain  cere¬ 
monies  were  to  be  discontinued — the  Candlemas  candles, 
the  Palm  Sunday  palms,  the  Ash  Wednesday  ashes.  A 
week  later  came  another  order  forbidding  Creeping  to 
the  Cross  and  the  use  of  Holy  Water.  In  February 
came  the  first  order  for  the  removal  of  all  images.  At 
Easter  the  De  Ouetivel  Chantry  was  abolished,  and  the 
chantry  priest  dismissed  with  a  pension  ;  and  with  the 
chantry  went  a  multitude  of  small  endowments.  Some 
parishioners  had  left  money  for  obits,  i.e.  masses  for  the 
soul  on  the  anniversary  of  their  death  ;  others  had  left 
money  for  lights  and  candles.  But  all  these  funds  the 
Government  now  appropriated  to  its  own  uses,  to  the 
indignation  of  Cranmer  and  all  true  reformers.  “If  the 

8 


English  in  the  Services. 


1 14 

drones  must  be  driven  out  of  the  hive,”  wrote  Bucer, 
“  why  should  wasps  and  hornets  be  let  in  to  gorge  them¬ 
selves  on  its  stores?  ” 

Meanwhile,  the  amount  of  English  in  the  services  was 
English  steadily  being  increased.  One  of  the  Injunctions 
in  (15  47)  had  ordered  the  Litany  to  be  used  in 

Church,  church  kneeling,  before  High  Mass.  Another 
had  ordered  the  Epistle  and  Gospel  to  be  read  in  English. 
Then  came  word  that  the  laity  were  to  receive  the  wine 
as  well  as  the  bread — an  order  which  necessitated  the 
melting  down  of  the  slender  mediaeval  chalice  and  the 
making  of  a  large  Communion  cup — and  with  the  order 
came  a  small  pamphlet  containing  prayers  that  were  to 
be  used.  The  Latin  Mass  was  to  be  retained  “without 
the  varying  of  any  rite  or  ceremony”  up  to  the  point  at 
which  the  priest  himself  received  the  elements,  but  then 
he  was  instructed  to  turn  to  the  people  with  the  English 
exhortation,  “  Dearly  beloved  in  the  Lord,”  which  re¬ 
mains  in  our  present  Prayer  Book,  and  to  read,  almost 
in  their  present  form,  the  Invitation,  the  Confession,  the 
Absolution,  the  Comfortable  Words,  the  Prayer  of 
Humble  Access,  the  first  half  of  the  Words  of  Adminis¬ 
tration,  and  the  Blessing. 

All  these  changes  paved  the  way  for  a  complete  re- 
The  vision  of  the  Church  services.  At  Easter,  1549, 
First  Simon  Winch  received  a  copy  of  the  new  Prayer 
Prayer  Book.  How  eagerly  he  would  scan  its  con- 

-^Ook  ^  •>' 

tents  !  The  first  thing  evident  was  that  it 
was  all  in  English.  “  A1  thinges,”  said  the  Preface, 
“  shalbe  read  and  song  in  the  Englyshe  tongue  to 
thende  yt  the  congregacion  maie  be  therby  edified.” 
The  next  point  obvious  was  that  many  familiar  things 
had  been  omitted,  some  to  gain  greater  simplicity — 
“our  excessive  multitude  of  ceremonies  was  so  great, 
and  many  of  them  so  darke,  that  they  did  more  confound 
and  darken,  than  declare  and  sette  forth  Christes  bene- 


The  English  Prayer  Books. 


1 1 5 

fites,” — others  because  they  were  “so  farre  abused, 
partely  by  the  supersticious  blyndenes  of  the  rude  and 
unlearned,  partely  by  the  unsaciable  avarice  of  suche  as 
soughte  more  theyr  owne  lucre  than  the  glorye  of  God, 
that  the  abuses  could  not  well  be  taken  awaye,  the  thyng 
remayning  still  But  for  all  this  a  closer  inspection 
showed  that  the  book  was  intensely  conservative.  The 
old  vestments,  the  unleavened  wafers,  prayers  for  the 
dead,  were  retained.  The  daily  morning  and  evening 
services  were  not  new  compositions  ;  they  were  portions 
of  the  old  Latin  offices  of  Mattins  and  Lauds,  Vespers 
and  Compline,  clothed  in  fresh  beauty  by  Cranmer’s 
silvery  English.1  The  Communion  service  contained 
many  of  the  Missal  prayers,  together  with  those  issued 
in  the  previous  year. 

The  new  book  was  not  popular.  Old-fashioned  people 
disliked  changes  of  anv  kind,  and  the  Government 
Second  complained  that  “  a  great  number  of  people  do 
Prayer  wilfully  refuse  to  come  to  their  parish  churches  ”, 
The  Gospellers,  on  the  other  hand,  were  disap¬ 
pointed  that  the  changes  were  not  more  drastic.  They 
agreed  with  Bishop  Hooper  that  the  book  was  “  in  some 
respects  manifestly  impious  ”.  As  a  compromise  it  satis¬ 
fied  nobody,  and  soon  preparations  began  to  bring  out  a 
revised  edition.  This  reached  Durford  in  October,  1552, 
and  was  used  for  the  first  time  on  All  Saints’  Day.  It 
was  far  more  Protestant  than  its  predecessor.  The  word 
Mass  and  the  word  Altar  were  removed  from  its  pages  ; 
the  altars  themselves  had  been  removed  two  years  earlier 
1550)  and  “one  decent  table”  provided  instead;  the 
minister  was  directed  to  wear  “neither  alb,  vestment, 
nor  cope,  but  a  surplice  only”;  instead  of  wafers,  “it 
shall  suffice”  if  the  bread  is  “  such  as  is  usual  to  be  eaten 

1  They  were  almost  the  same  as  the  middle  portions  of  our  present 
Morning  and  Evening  Frayer,  beginning  with  the  first  Lord’s  Prayer  and 
ending  with  the  third  collect. 

8  * 


Accession  of  Mary. 


ii  6 

at  table  ”  ;  ail  prayers  for  the  dead  were  deliberately 
omitted ;  the  exorcising  of  the  demon  and  the  anointing 
with  oil  in  baptism  were  discontinued.  In  general  ar¬ 
rangement  the  book  had  now  assumed  its  present  form, 
though  it  was  to  undergo  three  revisions  later. 

This  had  only  been  used  for  eight  months,  when  the  boy- 
The  king  died  (July,  1553),  and  his  half-sister,  the 

Reac-  sour  and  bigoted  Mary,  became  Queen.  She  was 

the  daughter  of  Catherine  of  Aragon,  whom 
Henry  had  deserted,  and  her  Spanish  blood  and  her 
mother’s  wrongs  caused  her  to  hate  the  Reformation 
with  fierce  relentless  hatred.  The  reformers  had  made 
mistakes  and  enemies.  Their  cause  had  been  com¬ 
promised  by  the  shameless  greed  of  the  lay  politicians. 
And  all  who  disliked  the  changes  in  religion  or  the  men 
who  had  made  them,  rallied  round  the  new  Queen  in  her 
effort  to  defeat  them.  A  carefully  packed  Parliament 
began  to  repeal  every  ecclesiastical  act  of  the  last  quarter 
of  a  century.  Orders  came  down  thick  and  fast  upon 
Winch  and  his  wardens.  The  use  of  the  Prayer  Book 
was  forbidden  and  the  Latin  services  restored.  The 
Communion  Table  must  be  destroyed  and  the  stone  altar 
rebuilt.  A  new  set  of  vestments  must  be  bought ;  a 
crucifix  at  least  five  feet  high  must  be  set  on  the  rood- 
loft  ;  lamps,  candlesticks,  holy  water  stoups,  tabernacles, 
all  must  be  reinstated.  The  cup  must  be  withheld  from 
the  laity.  All  married  clergy  must  be  expelled  from 
their  livings.  The  climax  came  on  that  dark  November 
afternoon  (1554),  when  the  Houses  of  Parliament  knelt 
before  the  red-robed  Papal  Legate,  and  in  the  name  of 
the  whole  realm  declared  themselves  “very  sorry  and 
repentant”  for  their  schism  and  sin,  and  received  absolu¬ 
tion  on  condition  that  they  repealed  every  law  “  against 
the  supreme  authority  of  the  Pope’s  Holiness.” 

But  the  Reformation  was  not  yet  undone.  Some  of 
the  Protestants  fled  abroad,  but  the  leaders  stood  their 


The  Noble  Army  of  Martyrs. 


ii  7 


The 

Reign 

of 

Terror 


ground,  and  Cranmer  issued  a  courageous  challenge  : 

“  If  the  Queen  will  give  me  leave,  I  shall  be  ready 
to  prove  against  all  that  will  say  the  contrary  that 
the  Communion  Book  set  forth  by  King  Edward 
is  conformable  to  the  order  which  our  Saviour 
observed  and  commanded,  and  that  the  Mass  in  many 
things  has  no  foundation  of  Christ,  the  Apostles,  or  the 
Primitive  Church,  but  is  manifest  contrary  to  the  same 
and  contains  many  horrible  blasphemies.”  It  was  clear 
that  if  Protestantism  was  to  be  suppressed  it  must  be 
stamped  out  by  force.  News  came  that  the  Archbishop 
and  many  others  had  been  arrested  (1553);  that  the  old 
acts  against  the  Lollards  had  been  revived  (1554).  Then 
Durford  began  to  hear  stories  of  the  martyrs  :  how 
Prebendary  Rogers,  editor  of  the  Bible,  had  died  at 
Smithfield  (4  Feb.,  1555),  “bathing  his  hands  in  the 
flame,  as  if  it  was  cold  water  ”  ;  how  Prebendary  Saunders 
had  been  burnt  at  Coventry  (8  Feb.)  for  preaching  in 
defence  of  the  Prayer  Book  ;  how  Bishop  Hooper  had 
stood  in  a  slow  fire  in  front  of  his  cathedral  at  Gloucester 
for  three  quarters  of  an  hour  before  death  released  him 
(9  Feb.),  with  a  pardon  lying  on  a  stool  before  his  eyes, 
which  he  could  have  claimed  at  any  moment,  if  he  had 
been  willing  to  recant  ;  how  Taylor,  a  typical  country 
parson,  burly,  fearless,  and  humorous,  had  been  burnt 
(9  Feb.)  in  his  Suffolk  parish  amid  the  tears  of  his 
parishioners.  Next  month  men  told  how  bravely  Bishop 
Ferrar  had  borne  himself  at  his  burning  at  Carmarthen  ; 
how  John  Laurence  had  died  at  Colchester;  how  laymen 
were  proving  as  staunch  as  the  ciergy  ;  how  a  barber,  a 
butcher,  a  weaver,  a  prentice  boy,  two  Essex  gentlemen, 
and  an  old  Welsh  fisherman  had  laid  down  their  lives  for 
the  faith.  But  it  was  not  till  fires  were  flaming  in 
Canterbury  market  -  place  that  Durford  people  really 
realized  what  it  meant.  In  July,  John  Bland,  the  stout¬ 
hearted  Rector  of  Adisham,  who  had  refused  to  lay  aside 


1 1 8  The  Noble  Army  of  Martyrs. 

the  Prayer  Book  at  the  accession  of  Mary,  and  John 
Frankesh,  Vicar  of  Rolvenden,  were  burned  there  with 
two  laymen.  In  August  six  laymen  died  on  the  same 
spot.  In  September  five  perished  in  the  flames ;  in 
October  three  more.  Their  quiet  courage  filled  even 


A  Martyr  on  his  Way  to  the  Stake. 

their  enemies  with  amazement.  Men  began  to  see  that 
these  Protestants  had  a  faith  that  was  worth  dying  for. 
Men  began  to  ask  whence  came  this  power  of  meeting 
cruel  torture  with  a  smile  and  song.  From  other  parts 
of  England  reports  of  the  same  kind  came.  The  dying 


The  Noble  Army  of  Martyrs. 


1 19 


words  of  Bishop  Latimer  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
Be  of  good  cheer,  Master  Ridley,  we  shall  this  day  light 
such  a  candle  by  God’s  grace,  as  I  trust  shall  never  be 
put  out.”  Never  did  Protestantism  win  converts  more 
rapidly  than  during  this  persecution. 

In  January,  I  556,  five  more  martyrs  died  in  Canterbury, 
Death  “  who,  when  the  fire  was  flaming  about  their  ears, 
of  Cran-  did  sing  psalms,”  and  this  time  four  of  the  number 
mer.  were  women.  Durford  Protestants  were  thank¬ 
ing  God  for  the  valour  of  their  champions ;  but  next 
month  they  were  filled  with  shame  and  mortification. 
The  sad,  the  incredible  news  came  that  the  leader  had 
deserted  the  colours  ;  Archbishop  Cranmer  had  denied 
the  faith.  Worn  out  physically  and  mentally  by  his  long 
imprisonment,  badgered  daily  by  Spanish  friars,  deprived 
of  the  books  that  he  needed  in  order  to  meet  their  argu¬ 
ments,  at  last  the  old  man  had  utterly  broken  down,  and 
the  recantation  that  he  signed  was  circulated  broadcast. 
But  fortunately  his  enemies  were  not  content  with  this. 
He  must  apostatize  publicly  in  the  University  Church  at 
Oxford.  The  preacher  ended  his  sermon  with  the  words, 
'‘Brethren,  lest  any  man  doubt  this  man’s  conversion  and 
repentance,  you  shall  hear  him  speak.”  And  then  Cran- 
mer’s  courage  returned.  He  boldly  denounced  the  paper 
he  had  signed,  declaring  it  “troubleth  my  conscience  more 
than  any  other  thing  that  ever  I  did.”  “  And  forasmuch 
as  my  hand  offended  in  writing  contrary  to  my  heart, 
therefore,  if  I  come  to  the  fire,  it  shall  be  first  burned.” 
And  he  was  true  to  his  word.  When  they  rushed  upon 
him,  and  hurried  him  to  the  stake,  he  held  his  hand  un¬ 
flinchingly  in  the  flames,  till  it  was  consumed.  Like 
Samson,  he  recovered  his  strength  in  the  hour  of  his 
death  ;  and  in  that  hour  did  more  harm  to  his  enemies 
than  in  all  the  victories  of  his  life. 

But  this  was  only  a  passing  incident  in  the  wholesale 
butchery.  The  unhappy  Oueen,  disappointed  in  her  hope 


120 


The  Noble  Army  of  Martyrs. 


End  of 
the  Per 
secu- 
tion. 


of  an  heir,  who  should  wrest  the  throne  from  Anne 
Boleyn’s  daughter,  was  ever  urging  on  the  bishops 
by  her  “rattling  letters”.  During  the  summer 
(i  556)  we  have  details  of  more  than  seventy  burn¬ 
ings.  In  one  horrible  case,  the  story  of  which  was 
told  far  and  wide,  a  woman  gave  birth  to  a  child  in  the 
flames,  and  the  baby,  though  rescued  for  the  moment,  was 
flung  back  into  the  fire  and  burned.1  Nor  were  those 
who  went  to  the  stake  by  any  means  the  greatest  sufferers. 
Terrible  were  the  tortures  of  those  who  remained  in  the 
crowded  and  pestilent  prisons.  In  Canterbury  Castle  this 
year  four  persons  died  of  starvation,  unable  to  keep  body 
and  soul  together  on  three  farthings  a  day.  All  through 
the  following  year  (1557)  the  awful  carnage  continued. 
Three  times  the  fires  were  lighted  in  Canterbury.  Other 
Kentish  towns,  Wye,  Maidstone,  Ashford,  Rochester,  be¬ 
gan  to  have  burnings  also.  1558  came,  and  still  there 
was  no  respite,  but  now  the  end  was  near.  On  10  Nov¬ 
ember  five  more  martyrs  died  at  Canterbury,  and  one 
of  them,  a  girl  named  Alice  Snoth,  sent  for  her  godparents 
that  they  might  see  how  true  she  was  to  her  baptismal 
vows.  These  were  the  last  who  perished.  Six  days 
later  Mary  was  dead,  and  “all  the  churches  did  ring,  and 
at  night  men  did  make  bonfires,  and  set  tables  in  the 
street,  and  did  eat  and  drink,  and  made  merry.”' 

Seven  years  before,  Mary  had  found  English  Protestants 
a  small  and  unpopular  minority.  When  she  died, 
they  seemed  to  have  won  the  sympathies  of 
almost  the  whole  nation.  Sermons  from  the 
stake  had  been  far  more  convincing  than  sermons 
from  the  pulpit.  The  sight  of  neighbours  dying  for  their 
faith  upon  the  village  green  had  touched  hearts  that 
were  deaf  to  all  mere  exhortation.  On  Midsummer  Day 
(1559)  the  English  Prayer  Book  was  once  more  legal. 

1  Foxe  has  been  accused  of  inventing  this  story,  but  every  detail  can  be 
verified  from  the  State  Papers. 


Acces¬ 
sion  of 
Eliza¬ 
beth. 


Elizabethan  Prayer  Book. 


121 


The  new  edition  as  printed  was  practically  the  same  as 
the  Second  Book  of  Edward  VI,  except  for  four  altera¬ 
tions,  meant  to  conciliate  those  who  clung  to  the  older 
ways.  The  prayer  for  deliverance  from  the  “enor¬ 
mities  ”  of  the  Pope  was  dropped  out  of  the  Litany.  The 
“black  rubric”  at  the  end  of  the  Communion  Service 
was  omitted.1  When  the  bread  and  wine  were  given  to 
communicants  the  words  of  the  First  and  Second  Prayer 
Books  were  combined,  as  in  our  present  service.2  And 
the  mysterious  Ornaments  Rubric  made  its  appearance, 
although  it  had  not  been  in  the  book  when  it  was  passed 
by  Parliament,  directing  the  minister  to  “  use  such  orna¬ 
ments  in  the  church  as  were  in  use  by  authority  of 
Parliament  in  the  second  year  of  the  reign  of  Edward 
VI.”  This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss  the  problems 
raised  by  this  famous  rubric.  It  is  enough  to  say  that 
it  seemed  to  retain  for  a  time  the  pre-Reformation  orna¬ 
ments.3 

But  this  caution  proved  quite  unnecessary.  The  English 
The  Prayer  Book  was  welcomed  with  enthusiasm. 
Popish  “  St.  John  Baptist’s  Day,”  men  sang,  “  Put  the 
Peltry.  p0pe  away  !  ”  The  temper  of  the  country  proved 
to  be  such  that  in  a  few  weeks  the  Government  changed 
their  policy,  and  the  Royal  visitors  were  encouraging 
the  people  to  remove  the  very  ornaments  which  the  rubric 
ordered  to  be  retained.  The  Churchwardens’  Returns 
give  us  a  vivid  picture  of  what  was  happening.  P'rom 
those  of  other  places  it  is  easy  to  construct  the  kind  of 
report  that  the  wardens  of  Durford  would  send  in  : — 

1  Technically  this  was  net  an  omission,  for  the  Black  Rubric  was  never 
a  part  of  the  Statutory  Book  of  1552,  which  this  Act  of  Uniformity  re¬ 
stored. 

2  First  Prayer  Book  :  “  The  body  of  our  Lorde  Jesus  Christe,  which 
was  given  for  thee,  preserve  thy  body  and  soule  unto  everlasting  lyfe.” 
Second  Prayer  Book  :  “  Take  and  eate  this,  in  remembrance  that  Christ 
dyed  for  thee,  and  fetde  on  him  in  thy  hearte  by  faythe  with  thankesgiv- 
ing.” 

3  See  note  at  end  of  chapter. 


122 


What  was  Swept  Away. 


“  Imprimis,  the  Roode,  Marie  and  Johnne  and  all  other 
popishe  images  were  burnte  in  the  presence  of  the  whole 
parishioners  in  the  firste  year  of  Elizabeth. 

“Item,  the  roode-lofte  was.  pulled  downe  and  formes 
made  thereof. 

“  Item,  the  masse-bookes,  grailes,  legendes  and  all 
such  peltrei  of  the  pope’s  sinful  service  were  torne  in 
peces  and  defaced  at  the  same  tyme. 

“  Item,  2  copes,  2  vestments,  3  amices,  3  stoles,  2 
banner  clothes  were  solde,  and  put  to  prophane  use,  and 
the  money  put  in  the  poore  men’s  box. 

“  Item,  one  albe  is  now  put  forthe  to  make  our  priste 
a  surplice  of. 

“Item,  I  pax,  1  pyx,  I  sacring  bell,  1  crosse,  2  crewets, 
2  censers,  14  candlesticks,  with  other  mettell  of  papistry 
was  broken  and  solde  to  a  pewterere. 

“  Item,  I  sepulker  and  1  holiwater  stock  was  broken 
in  peces  by  the  handes  of  the  churchwardens.” 

The  Reformation  was  now  an  accomplished  fact. 
What  had  it  effected?  In  the  first  place  much 
that  was  false  had  been  swept  away.  The 
authority  which  the  Pope  had  usurped  and  so  grossly 
abused  was  abolished.  The  monastic  system  had  been 
judged  and  declared  a  failure.  Three  misbeliefs  of  the 
middle  ages  had  been  exposed  a-nd  refuted,  the  doctrine 
of  invocation  of  saints  with  all  the  system  of  relics  and 
pilgrimages  that  had  clustered  round  it,  the  doctrine  of 
purgatory  with  its  chantries  and  masses  for  the  dead,  the 
doctrine  of  transubstantiation  and  all  the  ceremonies  with 
which  it  had  obscured  the  meaning  of  the  Holy  Com¬ 
munion.  But  the  Reformation  did  far  more  than  sweep 
away  the  false.  It  conferred  upon  the  country  great 
positive  blessings  ;  an  open  Bible  in  every  parish,  which 
men  were  encouraged  to  study  for  themselves  ;  an  English 
service  in  every  church,  which  the  poorest  labourer  could 
take  part  in  ;  an  open  road  to  the  throne  of  grace,  the 


Results. 


What  Remained. 


123 


knowledge  that  justification  is  by  faith  alone,  and  that 
every  one  may  go  straight  to  the  Lord  for  pardon  with¬ 
out  waiting  for  pope  or  priest  or  compulsory  confession. 
But  one  thing  it  did  not  do.  It  did  not  abolish  one 
Church  to  set  up  another.  At  Durford  the  same  group 
of  villagers  worshipped  in  the  same  building  under  the 
same  vicar  as  part  of  the  same  National  Church  from 
Henry  VIII  to  Elizabeth.  They  changed  their  service 
books  occasionally ;  first  they  were  in  Latin,  then  in 
English,  then  once  more  in  Latin,  then  again  in  English. 
Certain  ornaments  in  the  church  were  removed,  then 
restored,  then  once  more  abolished.  Certain  superstitious 
practices  were  discontinued.  But  there  never  was  a 
moment,  during  all  those  years  of  change,  when  the  ancient 
Church  itself  was  abolished  and  a  new  one  created.  The 
Church  of  Elizabeth  was  the  same  church  as  the  Church 
of  Anselm  and  the  Church  of  Dunstan,  with  the  same 
orders,  the  same  creeds,  the  same  two  great  sacraments, 
but  with  “  her  face  washed  and  dried  with  a  rough 
towel.” 


NOTE  ON  THE  ORNAMENTS  RUBRIC. 

The  problem  of  the  Ornaments  Rubric  is  a  very  puzzling  one.  The 
First  Prayer  Book  of  Edward  VI  retained  certain  of  the  pre-Reformation 
vestments.  The  Second  Prayer  Book  declared  that  “the  Minister  shall 
use  neither  alb,  vestment,  or  cope,  but  being  a  Priest  or  Deacon  he  shall 
wear  a  surplice  only.”  The  Elizabethan  Act  of  Uniformity  (1559)  re¬ 
stored  the  Second  Prayer  Book  with  certain  specified  alterations  “ and 
none  other  or  otherwise yet  by  a  later  clause  it  provided  “that  such 
ornaments  of  the  Church  and  of  the  Ministers  shall  be  retained  and  be  in  use 
as  was  in  this  Church  of  England  by  authority  of  Parliament  in  the  second 
year  of  Edward  VI  (apparently  meaning  those  of  the  First  Prayer  Book), 
until  other  order  shall  be  therein  taken  by  the  authority  of  the  Queen’s 
Majesty.”  When  the  Elizabethan  Prayer  Book  appeared  in  print  a  few 
months  later,  it  contained  an  Ornaments  Rubric,  based  on  this  clause, 
which  had  not  been  in  the  Book  when  it  was  passed  by  Parliament, 
ordering  the  Minister  to  “  use  such  ornaments  in  the  Church  as  were  in 
use  by  authority  of  Parliament  in  the  second  year  of  Edward  VI.”  Yet 
all  the  authorities  in  Church  and  State  proceeded  to  act  as  though  the 
clause  and  rubric  ordered  the  vestment  of  the  Second  Prayer  Book  (i.e. 
the  surplice)  and  not  the  vestments  of  the  First  Book.  The  Queen’s 
Injunctions,  issued  the  same  year  (1S59)  ordered  the  clergy  to  wear 


124 


The  Ornaments  Rubric. 


“both  in  Church  and  without”  “such  seemly  garments  as  were  most 
commonly  received  in  the  latter  year  of  Edward  VI.”  During  the  Visita¬ 
tion  which  followed  there  was  a  wholesale  destruction  of  pre-Reforma- 
tion  Ornaments.  The  Advertisements  of  1566  ordered  “  a  comely  surplice 
with  sleeves  ”  to  be  worn  by  “  every  minister  saying  any  public  prayers 
or  ministering  the  Sacraments,”  except  in  Cathedrals.  How  can  we 
explain  the  mystery  of  Queen  and  Bishops  apparently  acting  in  flat  and 
persistent  opposition  to  the  Law  and  Rubric  which  they  themselves  had 
issued  ? 

Various  suggestions  have  been  offered  : — 

(1)  There  is  some  evidence  that  under  the  First  Prayer  Book  the 
celebrant  changed  his  vestments,  using  the  Mass  vestments  for  the  first 
part,  which  was  to  some  extent  the  Canon  of  the  Mass  translated  into 
English,  and  then  putting  on  the  surplice  for  the  Administration  of  the 
Holy  Communion  to  the  people.  In  this  case  the  Elizabethan  rubric  may 
have  taken  for  granted  that  the  Mass  vestments  were  abolished  with  the 
Mass  ;  and  in  ordering  the  ornaments  in  use  in  the  second  year  of  King 
Edward,  have  meant  the  surplice,  which  was  the  Edwardian  vestment  for 
the  actual  Holy  Communion. 

(2)  The  words  of  the  Proviso  at  the  end  of  the  Act  “  shall  be  retained 
and  be  in  use”  may  be  the  equivalent  of  “held  in  use,”  i.e.  held  in 
trust,  not  used,  but  kept  safely  and  not  destroyed  until  further  instructions. 
In  this  case  the  Proviso  would  be  simply  a  safeguard  against  embezzle¬ 
ment,  and  the  person,  whoever  he  may  have  been,  who  without  any  legal 
authority  substituted  this  rubric  for  that  of  the  Second  Prayer  Book, 
which  the  Act  of  Uniformity  had  authorized,  either  wilfully  or  accident¬ 
ally  misunderstood  the  meaning  of  the  phrase  in  the  Act. 

(3)  The  clause  and  rubric  may  reflect  a  temporary  fit  of  timidity  on 
the  part  of  the  Queen  and  her  advisers,  who  may  have  hoped  by  retaining 
the  old  vestments  to  conciliate  some  of  those  who  had  welcomed  their 
restoration  under  Mary.  This,  however,  was  quickly  seen  to  be  un¬ 
necessary,  and  the  “  other  order  ”  mentioned  in  the  Act  was  taken 
either  by  the  Official  Visitors  under  the  Royal  Commission  or  by  the  In¬ 
junctions  or  by  the  Advertisements. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


HOW  THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND  HAD  TO  FIGHT  FOR  ITS 
LIFE  AGAINST  ROME  AND  GENEVA. 

BEFORE  Elizabeth  had  been  many  years  on  the  throne 
Robert  Wyborn  succeeded  Winch  as  Vicar  of 
Eliza-  Durford.  He  was  a  Calvinist,  for  practically  all 
bethan  the  younger  men  had  now  fallen  beneath  the 
spell  of  the  great  thinker  of  Geneva  :  but  he  was 
at  the  same  time  a  sound  and  loyal  Churchman,  believing 
Episcopacy  to  be  for  the  good  of  the  Church,  believing 
the  Prayer  Book  to  be  as  helpful  and  Scriptural  a  manual 
of  devotion  as  was  likely  to  be  compiled  in  this  imperfect 
world,  willing  to  obey  its  rubrics,  and  seeing  nothing  in 
it  inconsistent  with  his  Calvinian  theology.  Every 
Sunday,  Morning  Service  began  at  eight  o’clock,  and  the 
church  was  full,  for  a  twelve-penny  fine  was  imposed  on 
absentees.  All  had  to  sit  in  their  proper  seats,  according 
to  their  rank,  according  to  their  sex,  according  as  they 
were  married  or  unmarried.  Sometimes  scandals  arose 
through  husband  and  wife,  or  mother  and  daughter 
trying  to  sit  together,  and  the  Archdeacon’s  Court  had 
to  deal  with  offenders  like  Abigail  Hayward,  who  “  being 
a  yonge  mayde  sat  in  the  pewe  with  her  mother  to  the 
greate  offence  of  many  reverend  women”.  Service  con¬ 
sisted  of  Morning  Prayer,  Litany,  and  the  Ante-Com¬ 
munion,  after  which  Wyborn  had  to  read  “  gravely  and 
aptly  without  any  glossing  of  the  same  or  any  additions  ” 
one  of  the  Homilies  set  forth  by  authority.  Durford 


126 


An  Elizabethan  Service. 


labourers  could  hardly  be  expected  to  comprehend  all  the 
parade  of  learning  in  those  wonderful  discourses — “  Epi- 
phanius,  Bishop  of  Salamene  in  Cyprus,  writeth  thus”; 
“  Lactantius,  an  old  and  learned  writer,  hath  these  words  ”  ; 
“  St.  Augustine,  the  best  learned  of  ancient  doctors,  saith  ” 
— but  they  would  at  least  carry  away  the  impression  that 
the  early  Fathers  were  all  on  the  side  of  the  Elizabethan 
Settlement.  Once  a  quarter,  in  obedience  to  the  Arch¬ 
bishop’s  Advertisements,  Wyborn  had  to  compose  and 
preach  a  sermon  of  his  own,  an  event  looked  forward  to 
with  considerable  excitement  in  the  village.  Other  things 
helped  to  add  an  interest  to  the  service.  From  the 
pulpit  a  man  heard  all  the  business  of  the  little  community  ; 
whose  beasts  had  strayed  ;  whose  turn  it  was  to  send  wain 
and  men  to  repair  the  high  road  ;  who  had  been  ex¬ 
communicated,  and  who  received  back  to  Communion. 
One  heard,  too,  news  of  things  far  outside  the  village. 
Special  prayers  were  constantly  introduced  with  little 
exhortations :  “  Forasmuch  as  the  Isle  of  Malta  is 
invaded  with  a  great  navy  of  Turks,  it  is  our  parts  to 
assist  with  hearty  and  fervent  prayer.”  “Whereas  the 
Turks  do  now  invade  the  Kingdom  of  Hungary,  it  is  our 
parts  to  assist  with  spiritual  aid.”  Durford  learnt  that 
an  army  had  been  sent  to  help  the  Huguenots  through 
the  prayer  for  “  those  which  be  sent  over  the  Seas  to  the 
aid  of  such  as  be  persecuted  for  Thy  Holy  Name”.  It 
learnt  that  another  conspiracy  had  been  detected  through 
the  prayer  “We  thank  Thee  that  Thou  hast  revealed  and 
made  frustrate  his  bloody  and  most  barbarous  treason, 
who  hath  secretly  sought  to  shed  our  Queen’s  blood.” 
Every  week  the  service  would  provide  the  village  with 
many  topics  for  discussion  under  the  old  yew  tree  in  the 
churchyard  outside.  On  the  first  Sunday  of  every  month 
morning  service  was  followed  by  the  Holy  Communion. 
The  Lord’s  Table  was  brought  from  the  east  end  into  the 
body  of  the  church,  and  the  people  received  the  Com- 


An  Elizabethan  Sunday. 


127 


munion  kneeling  in  their  pews.  At  noon  Wyborn  was 
back  in  church  for  two  hours’  catechizing,  and  all  young 
people  under  twenty,  and  such  of  their  elders  as  could 
not  say  the  Catechism  correctly  from  beginning  to  end, 
had  to  attend.  At  two  o'clock  came  Evening  Prayer, 
and  again  the  twelve-penny  fine  secured  a  full  attendance. 
At  this  service  also  many  things  happened  of  great  inter¬ 
est  to  the  village  :  there  was  no  homily,  but,  after  the 
second  lesson,  Crump  the  ploughman  brought  his  youngest 
daughter  to  be  christened,  and  there  was  the  excitement 
of  seeing  whether  the  three  sponsors  satisfied  Wyborn  and 
his  wardens  in  their  knowledge  of  the  Catechism,  for, 
unless  one  knew  the  Catechism,  one  could  not  be  accepted 
as  a  godparent.  At  the  close  of  the  service  poor  Margaret 
Tyler  had  to  “  stande  before  ye  minister’s  Reading  Desk 
appareld  in  a  white  sheet  from  head  to  foot,  and  in  ye 
presence  of  ye  congregation  make  her  confession  as 
follows :  Good  People,  I  confess  I  have  grievously 
offended  Almighty  God  by  falling  into  foul  sin,  and  there¬ 
by  given  an  evil  example  to  my  neighbours,  for  which  I 
am  most  heartyly  sorry,  and  do  earnestly  beg  pardon  of 
Almighty  God  and  of  all  others  that  I  have  offended  by  my 
evil  example,  and  J  do  promise,  by  ye  grace  of  God, 
never  to  offend  in  ye  like  again.  And  that  I  may  per¬ 
form  my  vows  and  promises  I  do  most  earnestly  desire 
your  prayers.” 

Nor  was  Sunday  the  only  day  when  the  village  met  at 
church.  There  were  twenty-two  Holy  Days  in  the 
Elizabethan  Calendar,  when  all  parishioners  must  “  with¬ 
draw  themselves  from  all  worldly  and  fleshly  business,” 
and  attend  Morning  and  Evening  Prayer  under  pain  of 
that  twelve-penny  fine.  No  work  might  be  done  on  a 
Holy  Day,  except  in  harvest  time,  when  work  might 
begin  at  the  close  of  the  afternoon  service.  Every 
Wednesday  and  Eriday  the  Litany  was  said,  and  a  con¬ 
gregation  provided  by  the  rule  that  “every  householder 


128 


A  Churchwarden  s  Duties. 


dwelling  within  half  a  mile  of  the  church”  must  “send 
one  at  least  of  his  household  fit  to  join  with  the  minister 
in  prayers  And  every  morning  and  evening  Wyborn 
rang  the  church  bell  to  invite  the  parish  to  join  him  in 
worship. 

Thomas  Tilman  and  Robert  Bowlder,  the  two  church- 
The  wardens,  were  persons  of  great  importance  in  the 
Church-  little  community.  They  had  to  keep  the  church 
War-  [n  repair,  to  see  that  the  people  attended,  and 

ders  ^  ^ 

that  they  behaved  reverently  when  they  were 
present.  With  white  wands  in  their  hands  they  had  to 
suppress  all  who  “jangle,  babble  and  talk  in  service 
time”.  “They  shall  first  gently  admonish  them  and,  if 
they  will  not  be  reformed,  they  shall  lead  them  up  unto 
the  chancel  door,  and  set  them  with  their  faces  looking 
down  towards  the  people  for  the  space  of  one  quarter  of 
an  hour.”  “If  any  resort  to  the  ale-house  either  before 
service  or  in  time  of  divine  service,  they  shall  bring  them 
to  the  church  and  set  them  at  the  chancel  door  as  afore¬ 
said.”  If  any  proved  too  stubborn  for  amendment,  twice 
a  year  the  wardens  had  to  summon  them  before  the 
Archdeacon  at  Sandwich.  A  glance  at  a  typical  list  of 
offenders  will  show  how  varied  were  a  churchwarden’s 
responsibilities  at  this  time: — 

“  Robert  Terry  for  profaning  the  Sabbath  day  by 
catching  eels. 

“  Jack  Gee  for  disordering  himself  by  excessive 
drinking. 

“  Mary  Cocke  for  a  great  sower  of  discord  and  slander 
in  the  parish. 

“Richard  Court  for  coming  unreverently  unto  the 
church,  never  moving  his  hat  till  he  cometh  to  his  seat. 

“  Goodwife  Swane  for  that  she  is  vehemently  suspected 
to  be  a  witch. 

“  Robert  Brown  for  misstopping  up  our  usual  way  on 
going  the  perambulation  of  our  parish. 


The  Puritans. 


129 


“William  Collins  for  practising  surgery  without  a 

license. 

“Thomas  Giles  for  not  sending  his  servant  to  be 
catechised. 

“Alice,  wife  of  Thomas  Crathorne,  for  a  brawling 
scold. 

“Nicholas  Porte,  for  that  he  went  to  plough  on  St. 
Matthias  Day  last.” 

But  all  villages  were  not  like  Durford.  In  the  neigh- 
An  bouring  parish  of  Monksland  there  was  a  Cal- 
Early  vinist  of  a  very  different  type.  Here  Nehemiah 
Puritan.  pepe  was  Squire  and  Patron  of  the  living,  a  man 
in  whom  Queen  Mary’s  fires  had  kindled  a  bitter  hatred 
of  everything,  however  harmless,  that  Rome  had  touched 
or  handled.  He  secured  as  Vicar,  Samuel  Dowker, 
one  of  the  returned  exiles,  who  had  fled  abroad  during 
the  burnings,  as  hundreds  of  Englishmen  had  done, 
and  made  his  way  to  Geneva,  the  city  of  Calvin.  Here 
he  had  seen  the  impressive  sight  of  a  city  dominated 
by  a  church,  a  civil  government  whose  chief  ambition 
was  to  bring  the  lives  of  the  people  up  to  the  standard 
proclaimed  by  the  preachers  from  the  pulpit.  In  com¬ 
parison  with  this,  how  feeble  and  unsatisfactory  seemed 
all  the  compromises  of  the  Elizabethan  Settlement !  As 
Dowker,  and  many  clergy  like  him,  returned  to  English 
parishes,  Geneva  was  the  ideal  that  they  set  before  them  ; 
“that  we  may  altogether  teach  and  practise  that  true 
knowledge  of  God’s  Word,  which  we  have  learned  in  our 
banishment  and  by  God’s  merciful  providence  seen  in  the 
best  Reformed  Churches”.  To  them  the  Prayer  Book 
services  seemed  nothing  but  “cloaked  papistry  and 
mingle-mangle  ”.  They  detested  especially  the  surplice 
and  the  attitude  of  kneeling  to  receive  the  Holy  Com¬ 
munion.  “Why,”  they  asked,  “should  we  borrow  any¬ 
thing  from  Popery?  Why  should  we  not  agree  in  rites 
as  well  as  doctrine  with  the  other  Reformed  Churches?” 

9 


130 


7 'he  Puritans. 


But  even  more  earnestly  did  they  desire  the  establishment 
of  Genevan  discipline.  “  Doctrine  without  discipline  is 
like  a  body  without  a  backbone.”  If  England  was  a 


John  Calvin. 

Christian  nation,  then  all  English  life,  public  and  private, 
must  be  made  to  bow  to  the  laws  of  Scripture  as  inter¬ 
preted  by  the  Church.  If  we  had  visited  Monksland  on 
a  Sunday  morning,  we  should  probably  have  discovered 
Dowker  conducting  a  service  of  his  own  devising,  con- 


The  Puritans. 


1 3 1 

sisting  mainly  of  metrical  Psalms,  extemporary  prayer, 
and  a  very  lengthy  sermon.  Perhaps  he  had  hurried 
through  Morning  Prayer  as  a  legal  requirement,  before 
the  congregation  arrived,  but  for  all  practical  purposes 
the  Prayer  Book  was  ignored.  One  little  peculiarity  of 
his,  which  left  a  lasting  mark  upon  the  village  life,  was 
his  refusal  to  christen  children  by  names  that  were  not 
edifying,  and  the  parish  became  lull  of  little  Hephzibahs, 
Mehetabels,  and  Nahums,  to  say  nothing  of  such  com¬ 
pound  names  as  Hold  the  truth,  Fight  against  sin, 
Know  God,  Faint  not,  and  Be  Faithful. 

But  Matthew  Parker,  Elizabeth’s  first  Archbishop,  shy, 
gentle  student  though  he  was,  was  the  last  man  in  the 
world  to  tolerate  anarchy.  “  Execution,”  he  wrote, 
“  execution  of  laws  and  orders  must  be  the  first  and  last 
part  of  good  government.”  In  1565  he  took  the  drastic 
step  of  cancelling  the  licences  of  all  the  clergy  in  his 
diocese.  If  Dowker  wished  to  continue  Vicar  of  Monks- 
land,  he  must  apply  for  a  new  licence,  paying  “  iiij  pens 
for  the  parchment  and  the  waxe,  ”  and  this  licence  would 
only  be  issued  on  condition  that  he  would  conform  exactly 
to  all  the  requirements  of  the  Prayer  Book,  and  would 
wear  at  all  public  services  the  surplice,  and  in  the  street 
the  square  cap  and  long  gown  which  were  the  required 
clerical  dress.  Very7  grudgingly  and  reluctantly  at  last 
the  promise  was  given,  but  with  the  firm  determination 
never  to  rest,  till  these  “  dregs  of  Antichrist  ”  were  purged 
out  of  the  Church,  and  all  things  done  in  England  as  they 
were  in  Geneva. 

Meanwhile  there  was  a  third  type  of  religion  in  the 
^  villages.  At  Durford  Manor  the  De  Quetivels 

Popish  held  fast  to  the  old  rites.  In  the  great  central 
Recus-  chimney7  a  secret  chamber  was  prepared,  with  an 
entrance  through  a  sliding  panel  at  the  back  of  a 
big  wardrobe,  in  which  a  priest  could  be  hidden,  whenever 
one  was  able  to  visit  them  :  and  often  in  the  early7  morn- 

9  * 


132 


The  Recusants. 


ing,  before  the  village  was  astir,  Mass  was  celebrated  in 
the  rush-strewn  dining-hall.  In  addition  to  this,  like 
most  of  the  Roman  sympathizers,  they  occasionally  sat 
through  a  service  in  their  parish  church,  believing  that 
they  could  do  so  with  a  clear  conscience,  for  “the  Prayer 
Book,”  wrote  the  Spanish  ambassador,  “  contains  neither 
impiety  nor  false  doctrine.  The  prayers  themselves  are 
those  of  the  Catholic  Church.”  But  in  1562  William 
Allen  landed  in  England  “  to  enforce  by  many  arguments 
that  so  great  was  the  atrocity  of  this  crime,  that  whoso¬ 
ever  was  contaminated  could  on  no  account  remain  in  the 
Catholic  communion.”  This  grave,  dignified,  handsome 
young  man,  who  had  been  Principal  of  St.  Mary  Hall, 
Oxford,  was  leader  of  the  Roman  party  all  through 
Elizabeth's  reign,  and  in  his  great  ability  and  his  dogged 
determination  never  to  yield  the  smallest  point  and,  it 
must  be  added,  in  his  utter  unscrupulousness  also,  he 
was  almost  a  personification  of  the  papal  policy.  His 
first  act  was  to  bring  everv  Romanist  out  of  the  National 
Church,  and  to  form  them  into  a  separate  sect. 

Here  then  was  the  great  question  which  no  one  could 
The  answer :  Which  of  these  three  types  of  religion 
Puritan  would  in  the  end  prevail — the  Elizabethan  settle- 
Attack.  ment,  the  Calvinism  of  Geneva,  or  the  unbending 
mediaevalism  of  Rome  ?  Obviously  the  Church  of  Eng¬ 
land  would  have  to  fight  for  its  life.  On  either  side  it 
was  assailed  by  earnest  and  devoted  men,  who  were 
determined  to  do  their  very  utmost  to  destroy  it. 
Let  us  watch  first  the  Puritan  attack.  Its  leader  was 
Thomas  Cartwright,  who  often  slept  a  night  at  Monksland 
on  his  frequent  journeys  to  the  Continent.  This  ex- 
Professor  of  Divinity  at  Cambridge  was  undoubtedly  one 
of  the  most  learned  men  of  the  age ;  of  his  earnestness 
and  sincerity  there  can  be  no  question  ;  but  he  was  hard, 
narrow,  intolerant  as  any  Spanish  inquisitor,  pleading  for 
a  revival  of  the  Mosaic  Law  that  all  false  teachers  should 


The  Puritan  Attack . 


133 


be  stoned.  “  If  this  be  bloody  and  extreme,  I  am  content 
to  be  so  counted  with  the  Holy  Ghost.”  The  point  of 
view  of  his  party  can  be  gathered  from  the  literature 
which  he  left  behind  him  on  his  visits.  First  came  the 
“  Admonition  to  Parliament”  (1572),  written  to  show  the 


The  Asse  in  Autority.  A  Puritan  Caricature  of  an  Ecclesiastical  Court. 
From  Batman's  “  Chrystall  Glasse  of  Christian  Reformation,"  1569. 


reader  the  “true  platform  of  a  Church  Reformed,”  so 
that  he  may  “behold  the  great  unlikeness  betwixt  it  and 
this  our  English  Church,”  and  “  learn  with  perfect  hatred 
to  detest  the  one  and  with  singular  love  to  embrace  and 
careful  endeavour  to  plant  the  other.”  “  We  in  England 
are  so  far  off  from  having  a  Church  rightly  reformed,  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  prescript  of  God’s  Word,  that  as  yet  we  are 


134 


The  Puritan  Attack. 


scarce  come  to  the  outward  face  of  the  same.”  This  fierce 
little  pamphlet  vigorously  demanded  the  abolition  of  the 
Prayer  Book,  a  thing  “  culled  and  picked  out  of  that 
popish  dung-hill,  the  Mass  book.”  In  the  Primitive 
Church  “ministers  were  not  tied  to  any  form  of  prayer 
invented  by  man,  but  as  the  Spirit  moved  them,  so  they 
poured  forth  hearty  supplications  to  the  Lord.”  Surplices 
must  be  abolished,  “garments  of  Balaamites,  of  popish 
priests :  they  keep  the  memory  of  Egypt  still  among  us  : 
therefore  can  no  pretence  of  order  make  them  in  any 
wise  tolerable.'1  And  the  whole  system  of  Church 
government  must  be  reorganized.  “Take  away  the  lord- 
ship,  the  loitering,  the  pomp,  the  idleness  of  Bishops.” 
Restore  the  three  ancient  orders  of  Ministers,  Elders,  and 
Deacons.  “  To  these  three  jointly  is  the  whole  rule  of 
the  Church  to  be  committed.”  Ministers  must  be  called  by 
the  congregation,  and  then  “  admitted  to  their  function 
by  laying  on  of  hands  of  the  company  of  the  eldership 
only.”  “  Is  a  Reformation  good  for  France?  And  can 
it  be  evil  for  England  ?  Is  discipline  meet  for  Scotland? 
And  is  it  unprofitable  for  this  realm  ?  Surely  God  hath 
set  these  examples  before  your  eyes  to  encourage  you  to 
go  forward  to  a  thorough  and  speedy  reformation.” 

Two  years  later  the  group  of  Puritans  who  gathered 
round  Peke  and  Dowker  were  eagerly  studying  another 
volume  :  “  A  Full  and  Plaine  Declaration  of  Ecclesiasticall 
Discipline  owt  off  the  Word  of  God  and  off  the  Declin- 
inge  off  the  Churche  of  England  from  the  Same.”  This 
was  a  scholarly  and  more  systematic  presentation  of  the 
views  of  the  Admonition.  Bishops  in  the  modern  sense 
were  to  be  abolished,  though  the  name  might  be  retained 
for  any  minister.  The  Church  must  be  governed  by 
Presbyteries  of  ministers  and  lay  elders.  The  Presbytery 
would  ordain.  The  Presbytery  would  rule.  The  Pres¬ 
bytery  would  excommunicate.  Every  member  of  the 
Church  would  be  subject  to  the  discipline  of  the  Presbytery. 


The  Puritan  Attack. 


135 


Contempt  for  it  would  be  sharply  punished  by  the  civil 
authorities.  Even  kings  were  subject  to  the  discipline  of 
the  Church. 

Soon  Dowker  began  to  take  steps  to  practise  what  he 
Secret  preached.  Peke  and  his  fellow-churchwarden 
Organi-  were  quietly  transformed  into  Elders.  The  four 
zation.  Sidesmen  were  taught  to  think  of  themselves  and 
act  as  Deacons.  A  Conference,  which  they  called  the 
Classis,  was  formed  of  all  the  Puritan  ministers  and 
elders  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  this  was  recognized  as 
the  only  rightful  authority  over  them.  If  the  Archbishop 
issued  an  order,  it  was  ignored,  until  it  had  been  dis¬ 
cussed  and  confirmed  by  the  Classis.  Candidates  for  the 
ministry  were  first  examined  and  ordained  by  the  Classis, 
and  then  sent  to  the  Archbishop’s  ordination  as  a  mere 
formality  required  by  the  civil  law.  In  many  parts  of 
England  the  same  thing  was  happening.  Beneficed 
clergy  were  secretly  introducing  the  full  Presbyterian 


system. 

For 


Arch¬ 

bishop 

Whit- 

gift. 


a  time  this  policy  had  considerable  success. 
Archbishop  Parker  died  in  1575,  and  Edmund 
Grindal,  his  successor,  the  “gentle  shepherd  Al- 
grind  ”  of  the  poet  Spenser,  though  one  of  the 
most  lovable  men,  lacked  strength  to  grapple 
firmly  with  so  difficult  a  position.  In  1583,  however, 
Whitgift  became  Primate,  a  born  bureaucrat,  eager  to 
enforce  the  established  order  #in  every  detail  and  parti¬ 
cular.  The  Queen  firmly  believed  in  her  “  little  black 
husband,”  as  she  affectionately  called  him.  He  obtained 
from  the  Government  a  new  Court  of  High  Commission 


to  deal  with  the  “disordered  persons  commonly  called 
Puritans  ”.  A  strict  censorship  of  the  Press  was  estab¬ 
lished,  and  no  book  allowed  to  be  printed  until  it  had 
been  submitted  to  Whitgift  and  the  Bishop  of  London. 
No  one  was  allowed  to  preach  until  he  had  signed  a 
statement  that  the  Prayer  Book  “  contained  nothing  con- 


The  Puritan  Attack. 


336 


trary  to  the  Word  of  God  And  at  once  a  considerable 
number  of  clergy  were  suspended. 

The  Puritan  answer  came  in  a  most  unexpected  form. 
Martin  The  Elizabethan  public  dearly  loved  a  joke;  and 
Marpre-  in  I  588  a  small,  badly  printed  pamphlet  began  to 
pass  from  hand  to  hand  amid  Homeric  peals  of 
laughter.  It  was  the  first  of  a  series  of  tracts  from  a 


Godly  Zeal  Plucked  out  of  his  Pulpit.  APuritan  Caricature. 

From  Batman's  “  Chrystall  Glasse  of  Christian  Reformation 1569. 


secret  printing-press,  “  compiled  for  the  behoofe  and 
overthrow  of  the  Parsons,  Fyckers  and  Currats,  that 
have  learnt  their  Catechismes  and  are  past  grace,  by  the 
reverend  and  worthie  Martin  Marprelate,  gentleman  ”. 
This  mysterious  writer,  who  has  never  yet  been  satisfac- 


f he  Puritan  Attack . 


1 37 


torily  identified,  was  undoubtedly  one  of  the  greatest 
English  satirists.  A  Puritan,  disguised  as  a  stage  clown, 
he  rollicked  round  the  Bishops,  prodding  them  in  the 
ribs,  addressing  the  Archbishop  as  Catercaps  and  Nuncle. 
raking  together  ridiculous  stories  about  them,  draggingto 
light  all  their  mistakes  and  all  their  personal  failings,  no 
one  had  ever  seen  such  extraordinary  pamphlets  before. 
“  Brother  Bridges  ” — this  for  example  is  the  way  he  ac¬ 
costs  the  Dean  of  Salisbury — “  a  word  with  you  ere  we 
depart.  I  pray  you  where  may  a  man  buy  such  another 
gelding  as  you  have  bestowed  upon  your  good  patron, 
Sir  Edward  Horsey,  for  his  good  worde  in  helping  you 
to  your  Deanery.  Go  to,  go  to,  I  perceive  that  you  will 
proove  a  goose.  Deale  closeliar  for  shame  the  next 
time.  Must  I  needs  come  to  the  knoledge  of  these 
things?”  Scurrilous  undoubtedly  the  tracts  were,  but, 
it  must  in  fairness  be  added,  far  less  scurrilous  than  most 
of  the  pamphlet  literature  of  the  age.  And  underneath 
their  quips  and  quiddities,  their  impudence  and  fooling, 
there  lay  a  deep  vein  of  religious  feeling.  “  I  used  mirth 
as  a  covert,  wherein  I  would  bring  truth  to  light.  The 
Lord  being  the  author  of  both  mirth  and  gravitie,  is  it 
not  lawful  for  the  truth  to  use  either  of  these  ways  ?  ” 
But  we  must  leave  all  Monksland  laughing  at  the 
The  Marprelate  pamphlets,  and  look  back  to  see  what 
Roman  is  happening  in  the  Manor  House  at  Durford. 

Attack,  jf  tpe  puritans  despised  the  Church  as  only  half 

reformed,  the  Romanists  detested  it  for  being  reformed 
at  all.  We  have  seen  how,  under  Allen’s  influence,  they 
had  withdrawn  from  its  services.  We  must  now  watch, 
while  they  plot  to  destroy  the  Church  altogether.  The 
first  need  was  literature  ;  and  many  of  the  chief  contro- 
versialists  withdrew  to  Louvain,  and  from  this  quiet 
University  city  in  the  Spanish  Netherlands  poured  into 
England  a  steady  stream  of  bitter  little  pamphlets.  The 
next  need  was  missionaries.  In  I  568  Allen  founded  the 


138 


The  Roman  Attack. 


English  College  at  Douai,1  which  drew  to  its  doors  scores 
of  students  from  Oxford  and  the  English  Grammar 
Schools,  and  sent  them  home  keen  young  priests,  eager, 
alert,  desperate,  ready  to  face  rack  and  gallows  to  win 
back  England  for  the  Pope.  Ten  years  later  the  Spanish 
ambassador  wrote  to  his  master:  “The  number  of 
Catholics  increases  daily,  the  instruments  being  mis¬ 
sionaries  from  the  seminary  at  Douai.  A  hundred  of 
these  have  returned  in  the  past  year.  They  travel  dis¬ 
guised  as  lay  men,  and,  young  as  they  are,  the  fervour 
with  which  they  throw  themselves  into  their  work  is  ad¬ 
mirable."  A  favourite  place  to  slip  ashore  was  the  de¬ 
serted  strip  of  coast  between  Deal  and  Ramsgate,  and 
Durford  Manor  then  made  a  convenient  first  hiding- 
place. 

All  this  was  fair  and  honourable,  but  soon  the 
p]  Romanists  stooped  to  use  far  more  doubtful 

and  weapons.  If  we  think  of  Sir  Richard  de  Que- 

Conspir-  tivel  as  one  who  began  as  a  gallant  old  English 
gentleman,  doggedly  refusing  to  forsake  the 
faith  of  his  fathers,  but  degenerated  slowly  into  a  traitor, 
plotting  to  help  Spanish  troops  to  invade  his  own  country, 
and  then  even  became  the  accomplice  and  supporter  of 
assassins,  we  shall  have  a  picture  of  what  was  happening 
in  many  an  old-fashioned  home.  The  great  hope  of  the 
Romanists  lay  in  the  fact  that  Elizabeth  was  unmarried, 
and  could  not  live  for  ever,  and,  when  she  died,  the 
throne  would  pass  to  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots.  Then 
indeed  the  tables  would  be  turned.  If  Mary  I  had 
chastized  Protestants  with  whips,  Mary  II  would  assuredly 
chastize  them  with  scorpions.  Soon  the  temptation 
became  irresistible  to  the  wilder  spirits  to  try  and  hasten 
the  death  of  the  heretic  Queen.  In  1563  came  the  first 
plot — “an  empty  business”  the  Spanish  ambassador 

1  Douai  is  now  on  the  French  side  of  the  Belgian  frontier,  but  was  then 
included  in  the  Spanish  Netherlands. 


The  Roman  Attack . 


139 


called  it,  but  significant  of  what  was  to  follow  for  the 
next  twenty-five  years.  In  1564  it  was  reported  from 
Rome  that  “  remission  of  sins  to  them  and  their  heirs  ” 
had  been  promised  to  “any  cook,  brewer,  baker,  vinter, 
physician,  grocer,  surgeon,  or  any  other  person  who 
would  make  away  with  the  Oueen  ”.  In  1569  came  the 
Northern  Rebellion,  when  the  Earls  of  Westmoreland 
and  Northumberland  raised  the  Banner  of  the  Five 
Wounds,  captured  Durham,  burnt  the  Prayer  Book,  and 
restored  the  Mass,  but  then  hesitated,  and  retreated 
ignominiously  into  Scotland.  This  failure  caused  the 
Romanists  to  turn  their  thoughts  to  the  task  of  bringing 
foreign  troops  against  their  own  countrymen.  In  1570 
a  group  of  noblemen  wrote  to  Philip  of  Spain,  offering 
harbours,  supplies,  anything,  if  he  would  send  an  army. 
In  the  same  year  Pius  V  launched  his  Bull  against 
Elizabeth,  declaring  that  she  was  excommunicated  as  an 
incorrigible  heretic,  and  that,  since  a  Pope  possessed 
authority  as  “prince  over  all  nations,”  he  “deprived  her 
of  all  and  every  dominion,  dignity,  and  privilege,”  absolved 
her  subjects  from  their  oaths  of  allegiance,  and  commanded 
them  “not  to  dare  to  obey  her,  her  monitions,  commands 
and  laws”.  Next  year  a  formidable  conspiracy  was 
formed,  in  which  a  large  number  of  Romanist  families 
were  involved.  “We  ask  his  Majesty,”  wrote  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk  to  the  King  of  Spain,  “for  money,  arms, 
ammunition  and  troops,  and  especially  for  some  ex¬ 
perienced  soldier  to  lead  us,  we  on  our  part  providing  a 
place  upon  the  coast  where  his  army  can  land,  entrench 
itself,  and  keep  its  stores.  We  can  ourselves  on  the  spot 
provide  20,000  foot  and  3,000  horse,  besides  many  others 
who  have  pledged  themselves  to  take  the  field  upon  our 
side.”  But  once  again  Cecil’s  spies  detected  the  plot  in 
time,  and  Norfolk  lost  his  head  on  Tower  Hill. 

The  failure  of  all  these  efforts  led  Allen  now  to  bring 
a  new  force  into  the  field.  Forty  years  earlier  Loyola 


140 


The  Roman  Attack. 


had  formed  the  Company  of  Jesus  to  be  a  semi-military 
body  to  win  the  world  for  Rome.  Every  Jesuit 
Jesuits  was  a  P^ked  man,  only  admitted  after  long  and 
very  strenuous  probation.  His  duty  was  simply 
to  obey  the  orders  given  him  by  his  superior. 


Theirs  not  to  make  reply : 
Theirs  not  to  reason  why  : 
Theirs  but  to  do  and  die. 


“  I  ought  to  be  like  a  corpse,  which  has  neither  will  nor 
understanding” — such  was  the  ideal  which  Loyola  set  be¬ 
fore  each  of  his  followers — “  or  like  a  small  crucifix,  which 
is  turned  about  at  the  will  of  him  that  holds  it,  or  like  a 
staff  in  the  hands  of  an  old  man,  who  uses  it  as  best  may 
assist  or  please  him  ”.  Such  was  the  force  which  Allen 
now  launched  against  the  Church  of  England.  In  June, 
1580,  a  soldier  “in  a  suit  of  buff  with  gold  lace  with  hat 
and  feathers  suited  to  the  same  ”  asked  for  a  night’s 
shelter  at  Durford  Manor.  It  was  Robert  Parsons,  the 
head  of  the  Jesuit  mission.  A  fortnight  later  Campian 
came,  disguised  as  a  jewel  merchant.  Parsons  was  an 
adventurer  of  the  true  Elizabethan  type,  a  scholar  with  a 
style  that  is  a  model  of  clearness,  and  a  cleverness  in 
controversy  that  is  simply  amazing,  a  courtier  who  could 
twist  the  King  of  Spain  round  his  little  finger,  and  defeat 
the  wiliest  intriguers  of  the  Vatican  with  their  own 
weapons,  but  above  all  a  fighter,  dauntless,  reckless, 
rollicking,  delighting  in  desperate  ventures  and  pro¬ 
digious  exertions.  Campian  was  a  man  of  a  different 
type,  quiet,  gentle,  fascinating,  with  a  wonderful  power 
of  winning  the  affection  of  younger  men  and  a  gift  of 
eloquence  that  made  him  one  of  the  greatest  of  living 
orators.  The  presence  of  men  like  this  in  England  soon 
made  itself  felt.  “  I  ride,”  wrote  Campian,  “  about  some 
piece  of  the  country  every  day.  The  harvest  is  wonder¬ 
ful  great.  On  horseback  I  meditate  my  sermon.  When 
I  come  to  the  house,  I  polish  it.  Then  I  talk  with  such 


The  Roman  Attack. 


141 

as  come  to  speak  with  me  or  hear  confessions.  In  the 
morning  after  Mass  I  preach.  They  hear  with  exceeding 
greediness.  Threatening  edicts  come  forth  against  us 
daily.  Notwithstanding,  by  good  heed,  we  have  passed 
safely  through  the  most  part  of  the  island.”  At  the  end 
of  their  first  year  they  boasted  that  they  had  made  20,000 
converts.  The  Government  was  now  seriously  alarmed. 
Campian  was  caught  at  last,  and  executed  as  a  traitor 
(1581),  because  he  refused  to  disavow  the  Bull  of  De¬ 
position.  An  Act  passed  “  to  retain  the  Queen’s  sub¬ 
jects  in  their  due  obedience”  made  it  treason  to  be 
reconciled  to  Rome,  and  inflicted  a  fine  of  £20  a  month 
on  all  who,  like  the  De  Ouetivels,  refused  to  attend  their 
parish  churches. 

Henceforth  the  plots  become  so  numerous  that  it  is 
j  almost  impossible  to  disentangle  them.  Allen 

sion  or  and  Parsons  were  tireless  in  their  efforts  to  stir 

Assassi-  Up  the  French  or  Spaniards  to  invade  the 
country.  “The  English,”  wrote  Allen,  “are  as 
a  nation  unwarlike,  inexperienced,  and  totally  unable  to 
resist  the  attack  of  veteran  soldiers.”  “In  the  whole 
realm  there  are  not  more  than  two  fortified  towns  which 
could  stand  a  siege  of  three  days.”  “  The  Catholics  are 
now  much  more  numerous  than  they  were,  and  better 
instructed  by  our  priests’  daily  exhortations,  so  that  of 
all  the  orthodox  in  the  realm  there  is  not  one  who  any 
longer  thinks  himself  bound  in  conscience  to  obey  the 
Queen.  Besides  we  have  nearly  three  hundred  priests 
in  various  gentlemen’s  houses,  and  we  are  almost  daily 
sending  fresh  ones,  who,  when  it  is  necessary,  will 
direct  the  Catholics’  consciences  and  actions  in  the 
matter.”  This  remark  is  worth  noting,  since  modern 
writers  often  assert  that  the  work  of  the  seminary  priests 
was  strictly  non-political.  “  The  expenses,  whatever  they 
are,”  adds  Allen,  “  will  be  borne  by  the  goods  of  the 
heretics  and  the  false  clergy.”  In  1583  three  sets  of 


142 


The  Roman  Attack. 


conspirators  were  competing  for  the  honour  of  assassin¬ 
ating  Elizabeth.  Next  year  a  gentleman  of  the  Queen’s 
Household  was  to  do  the  deed,  and  a  letter  was  dis¬ 
covered  on  him  from  the  Cardinal  of  Como  stating-  that 
the  Pope  approved  of  his  plans  and  sent  his  benediction. 
In  1586  a  gay  young  officer  in  a  blue  velvet  jerkin  came 
to  Durford  Manor.  It  was  Father  Ballard,  another 
Jesuit,  organizing  a  formidable  plot.  Six  of  the  Queen’s 
attendants  had  sworn  to  stab  her  as  soon  as  the  signal 
was  given  ;  all  the  Romanists  were  to  rise  ;  the  Queen 
of  Scots  was  to  be  released  from  captivity ;  and  a 
Spanish  armv  was  to  land  on  the  east  coast.  But  again 
Walsi  ngham’s  Secret  Service  proved  too  much  for  the 
conspirators,  and  they  brought,  not  only  themselves,  but 
the  lovely,  reckless  Queen  of  Scots  to  the  scaffold. 

Before  she  died,  she  bequeathed  her  claim  upon  the 
English  throne  to  Philip  of  Spain,  who,  both  on 
Armada  ^at^er  s  and  mother’s  side,  was  descended  from 
John  of  Gaunt,  and  therefore  the  representative 
of  the  old  Lancastrian  line;  and  soon  it  was  known  that 
he  was  preparing  to  conquer  his  new  kingdom.  The 
greatest  navy  ever  seen  was  gathering  at  Lisbon.  Thirty 
thousand  Spanish  veterans  were  mobilized  at  Dunkirk, 
ready  to  slip  across  to  Margate  as  soon  as  the  fleet 
arrived.  Allen  was  given  a  Cardinal’s  hat,  and  appointed 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  with  authority  to  reorganize 
the  Church  as  soon  as  the  country  was  conquered.  Soon 
the  De  Quetivels  received  a  copy  of  his  manifesto,  “  An 
Admonition  to  the  Nobility  and  People  of  England  con¬ 
cerning  the  present  wars  made  for  the  execution  of  his 
Holiness’  sentence  by  the  King  Catholic  of  Spain.” 
After  calling  Elizabeth  “  an  incestuous  bastard,”  “  an  in¬ 
famous,  deprived,  accursed,  excommunicate  heretic,”  he 
proceeded  to  say,  “His  Holiness  confirms  and  renews 
the  sentence  of  his  predecessors.  He  discharges  you 
from  your  oath  of  allegiance.  He  requires  you  in  the 


The  Roman  Attack. 


143 


bowels  of  Christ  no  longer  to  acknowledge  her  as  your 
sovereign.  And  he  expects  all  of  you,  according  to  your 
ability,  to  hold  yourselves  ready  on  the  arrival  of  his 
Catholic  Majesty’s  forces  to  join  them.”  In  every 
Romanist  family  this  Admonition  caused  great  search¬ 
ings  of  heart.  At  Durford,  Sir  Richard  de  Quetivel  was 
getting  an  old  man  now.  His  son  Hugh  was  growing 
disgusted  with  a  religion  which  forced  him  to  be  a 
traitor  ;  and,  after  a  short  spell  of  painful  hesitation,  his 
patriotism  triumphed,  and,  when  the  bonfires  hashed  the 
news  that  the  Spanish  galleons  were  sailing  up  the 
Channel,  he  rode  with  the  rest  of  the  Durford  men  to 
the  camp  at  Northborne  to  fight  for  England  and  Eliza¬ 
beth.  And  when  the  danger  was  past,  and  the  great 
sea-castles  of  the  enemy  were  flying  panic-stricken  up 
the  North  Sea,  Hugh  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  entered 
Durford  Church,  and  knelt  with  his  fellow-villagers  at 
the  Thanksgiving  Service. 

Meanwhile,  through  all  these  years  of  vehement  and 

ceaseless  controversy,  Wvborn  continued  quietly 

I,he  , ,  ministering  to  his  flock  at  Durford.  How  did  he 
Church's  •  •  ^ 

Defence,  justify  to  himself,  how  did  he  defend  to  his  people, 
their  rejection  of  both  the  rival  systems,  which 
were  seeking  so  earnestly,  so  persistently  to  win  their 
allegiance?  In  his  study  two  well-thumbed  books  lay 
side  by  side,  one  so  small  that  he  could  slip  it  into  his 
inner  pocket,  the  other  with  pages  almost  as  large  as  those 
of  the  great  Church  Bible.  The  small  book  was  “  An 
Apology  or  Answere  in  Defence  of  the  Churche  of 
England."  It  was  anonymous,  but  everyone  knew  that 
its  author  was  Bishop  Jewel.  It  sprang  from  a  sermon 
of  his  at  Paul’s  Cross  (1  560)  in  which  he  threw  down  the 
challenge  :  “  If  any  learned  man  of  all  our  adversaries  be 
able  to  bring  any  one  sufficient  sentence  out  of  any  old 
Catholic  Doctor  or  Father,  or  out  of  any  old  General 
Council,  or  out  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  or  any  one 


144 


The  Church's  Defence. 


example  of  the  Primitive  Church,  whereby  it  may  be 
clearly  and  plainly  proved,  that  there  was  any  private 
mass  in  the  whole  world  for  six  hundred  years  after  Christ, 
or  that  there  was  then  any  Communion  ministered  unto 
the  people  under  one  kind,  or  that  the  people  had  their 
Common  Prayers  in  a  tongue  that  they  understood  not, 
or  that  the  Bishop  of  Rome  was  then  called  the  Head  of 
the  Universal  Church,  or  that  the  people  were  then  taught 
to  believe  that  Christ’s  Body  is  really,  substantially, 
corporally,  carnally  or  naturally  in  the  Sacrament,  or” — 
and  he  added  twenty  other  points  in  which  the  teaching 
of  Rome  differed  from  that  of  the  Church  of  England — 
“  if  any  man  be  able  to  prove  any  one  of  all  these  articles, 
I  am  content  to  yield  unto  him,  and  subscribe.”  This 
argument  he  then  developed  in  his  famous  “  Apologia,” 
published  in  Latin  1562)  that  it  might  be  read  by  theo¬ 
logians  throughout  Europe,  translated  into  English  (1  564) 
with  his  approval  by  Lady  Bacon.  He  boldly  asserted 
that  the  Church  of  England  was  the  true  successor  of  the 
Church  of  the  Great  Councils  and  of  the  Early  Fathers. 
He  proved  how  modern  and  unscriptural  were  most  of  the 
doctrines  and  practices  on  which  Rome  laid  such  stress. 
He  maintained  that  his  own  Church  was  no  mushroom 
sect,  but  the  old  historic  Household  of  Faith,  purged  of 
certain  late  disfigurements,  and  returning  to  its  earlier, 
higher  self.  “  God’s  holy  Gospel,  the  ancient  Bishops,  and 
the  Primitive  Church  do  make  on  our  side.  We  have  not 
left  these  men,  but  rather  have  returned  to  the  Apostles 
and  the  old  Catholic  Fathers.” 

In  Jewel,  Wyborn  found  a  satisfying  answer  to  all  the 
tracts  and  arguments  that  came  from  Durford  Manor. 
For  answers  to  the  arguments  that  came  from  Monksland 
he  turned  to  the  other  volume,  a  treatise  “  Of  the  Lawes 
of  Ecclesiasticall  Politie  ”  (1  597)  bv  his  neighbour,  Richard 
Hooker,  Vicar  of  Bishopsbourne.  In  this  book,  which 
“  first  revealed  to  the  nation  what  English  prose  might  be,” 


The  Church's  Defence. 


145 


he  found  proved  with  unanswerable  completeness,  with  a 
massive  dignity  of  style  and  a  wealth  of  illustration  from 
classical  and  mediaeval  sources,  and  a  pre-eminently 
English  appeal  to  common  sense,  how  untenable  was  the 
Puritans’ claim  that  “  in  Scripture  there  must  be  of  neces¬ 
sity  contained  a  form  of  Church  polity  the  laws  whereof 
may  in  no  wise  be  altered/’  how  narrow  and  impossible  was 
their  view  of  the  Church,  how  reasonable  it  was  to  retain 
the  rites  and  customs  of  antiquity,  whenever  they  were 
“  generally  fit  to  set  forward  godliness,”  how  unreasonable 
were  almost  all  the  criticisms  which  Peke  and  Dowker 
were  always  bringing  against  the  Church  and  its  services. 
A  Church  Protestant  but  still  Catholic,  reformed  but 
carefully  preserving  its  continuity  with  the  past,  purged 
of  error,  but  treasuring  jealously  all  that  was  good  in 
antiquity,  admitting  the  duty  of  private  judgement,  but 
yet  respecting  authority,  a  Church  seeking  to  reproduce 
and  adapt  to  modern  conditions  the  life  of  the  early 
Church  in  its  best  and  purest  days — such  was  the  ideal 
which  Jewel  and  Hooker  opposed  to  the  ideals  of  Geneva 
and  Rome. 


CHAPTER  X. 


HOW  GENEVA  GAINED  THE  MASTERY. 

A  CRITICAL  moment  came  for  the  Church,  when  Elizabeth 
The  died  (1603),  and  James  I  rode  slowly  south  to 
New  claim  the  English  crown.  Rome  hoped  great 
°y-  things  from  the  son  of  Mary  Stuart,  who,  in 
the  course  of  the  crooked  diplomacy  that  his  soul 
loved,  had  more  than  once  promised  Philip  that  he  would 
“turn  Catholic.”  The  Puritans  hoped  still  greater  from 
a  King,  who  had  been  brought  up  by  Presbyterians,  and 
had  publicly  expressed  the  opinion  that  the  Scotch 
Kirk  was  “  the  purest  in  the  world,”  and  the  Prayer 
Book  service  “but  an  evil  said  Mass  in  English.”  But 
the  shrewd,  pedantic,  awkward  little  man  soon  decided 
on  his  course.  “A  presbytery  agreeth  as  well  with 
monarchy  as  God  and  the  devil.”  He  would  continue 
the  policy  of  his  predecessor.  Both  sides  then  fell  back 
on  their  old  line  of  action.  The  Romanists  resumed 
their  plots,  first  the  Bye  Plot  and  the  Main  Plot  (1603), 
then  (1604)  Gunpowder  Treason.  The  last,  with  its 
desperate  attempt  to  destroy  at  a  single  blow  King, 
Bishops,  Lords,  and  Commons,  thrilled  Durford  with 
horror,  and  the  burning  of  Guy  Fawkes  became  an 
annual  event,  which  destroyed  all  chance  of  the  Papal 
Party  winning  the  sympathy  of  the  village.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Puritans  continued  their  agitation. 
The  Millenary  Petition  (1603),  to  which  750  clergy 
gave  their  assent,  asked  among  other  points  that  the 
cross  in  baptism  should  be  dropped,  that  the  surplice 

146 


James  and  the  Puritans. 


14  7 


should  not  be  insisted  on,  that  the  ring  should  no 
longer  be  a  part  of  the  marriage  service,  though  it 
might  be  retained*as  a  private  token  given  by  husband 
to  wife,  and  that  Confirmation  should  no  longer  be  con¬ 
fined  to  bishops.  If  a  parish  clergyman  could  baptize, 
why  should  he  not  confirm  ?  From  the  Hampton  Court 
Conference,  which  followed  (1604),  they  got  very  little 
encouragement.  When  the  new  Frayer  Book  appeared 
(1604),  it  was  found  to  be  practically  the  same  as  that 
of  Elizabeth,  except  that  the  questions  and  answers  on 
the  Sacraments  were  now  added  to  the  Catechism.  This 
book  was  rigidly  enforced.  All  clergy  who  refused  to 
conform  were  deprived  of  their  livings.  “  I  will  make 
them  conform/’  declared  the  King,  “or  harry  them  out 
of  this  land.”  But  this  did  not  make  the  Puritans  any 
less  discontented.  All  Monksland  declared  that  the 
Prayer  Book  which  they  were  compelled  to  use  contained 
“nineteen  Popish  errors,  three  points  that  are  doubtful, 
seven  that  are  untrue,  seven  that  are  disorderly,  five  that 
are  ridiculous,  beside  many  evident  contradictions  ”. 

The  most  striking  feature  of  village  life  now  was  the 
The  witch  panic.  There  had  been  isolated  trials  for 
Witch  witchcraft  all  through  the  Middle  Ages,  but  in 
Panic.  1484  a  Bull  of  Innocent  VIII  spread  a  wave  of 
terror  on  this  subject  across  Europe.  The  thunders  of 
the  Church,  however,  only  helped  to  advertise  the  idea, 
that  it  was  possible  for  all,  who  were  willing  to  renounce 
Christ,  and  make  a  deliberate  act  of  self-surrender  to  the 
devil,  to  gain  supernatural  powers  to  hurt  and  destroy 
their  enemies.  Thousands  of  discontented  women  yielded 

J 

to  this  temptation,  and  honestly  believed  that  they  had 

entered  into  alliance  with  Satan.  The  mania  reached 

England  later  than  other  countries,  but  by  the  end  of 

Elizabeth’s  reign  the  Church  was  getting  alarmed  at  the 

spread  of  this  Devil  worship  in  the  country.  Jewel 

lamented  in  one  of  his  sermons  that  “  witches  and 

* 


10 


148 


The  Witch  Panic. 


sorcerers  within  these  few  years  are  marvellously  in¬ 
creased,'5  and  Archdeacons  in  their  visitations  began  to 
ask  the  question,  whether  there  were  any  suspected  of 
witchcraft  in  the  parish.  In  Scotland  they  had  been 
burning  witches  for  forty  years,  and  for  the  last  ten  years 
King  James  himself  had  been  the  leader  of  the  hunt. 
Had  he  not  written  his  “  Daemonologie  ”  to  refute  all 
sceptics,  who  were  inclined  to  doubt  the  grim  reality  of 
this  danger?  His  first  English  Parliament  now  passed 
an  act  making  the  penalty  for  witchcraft  death,  and  under 
this  statute  it  is  said  that  70,000  people  were  executed  in 
the  next  seventy  years.  At  Durford  old  Mother  Rudge 
had  been  for  years  the  village  herbalist.  In  her  big 
cauldron  she  stewed  potions  for  the  cure  of  diseases.  And 
somehow  or  other  she  had  drifted  into  the  sin  of  witch¬ 
craft.  She  believed  that  she  had  sold  her  soul  to  the 
Devil.  She  believed  that  her  black  cat  was  a  familiar 
spirit.  She  had  learned  the  secret  of  a  powerful  unguent 
that  produced  wild,  wicked  nightmares,  in  which  she 
skirled  through  the  sky  on  a  broomstick,  and  held  high 
festival  with  the  Prince  of  Darkness  at  the  witches’ 
Sabbath,  or  worshipped  blasphemously  in  some  vast 
cathedral,  while  a  monstrous,  green-eyed  goat  celebrated 
the  Black  Mass.  And  then  Dick  the  Waggoner’s  baby 
died  in  a  fit,  before  the  vicar  could  reach  the  cottage  to 
baptize  it,  and  Dick  declared  the  witch  had  slain  it  as  a 
sacrifice  to  her  Master,  and  the  poor,  half-crazed  old 
crone  was  weighed  against  the  big  Church  Bible,  and  then 
packed  off  to  Canterbury  jail  to  await  her  trial  and  the 
gallows.  A  few  weeks  later  all  the  village  was  startled 
by  the  news  that  Lizzie  Larter,  the  miller’s  daughter,  had 
been  seized  at  midnight  in  the  churchyard  digging  for 
dead  men’s  teeth — in  those  days  bodies  were  still  buried 
without  coffins — that  she  boasted  that  she  had  renounced 
her  baptism,  and  made  a  compact  with  the  Devil  ;  that 
she  showed  with  brazen  pride  the  wound  where  the  foul 


149 


The  English  Bible. 

fiend  sucked  her  blood.  But,  though  two  witches  had 
been  caught,  still  disasters  came.  Farmer  Mather’s  cow 
went  mad.  Stubbard’s  horse  was  seized  with  staggers. 
A  sudden  storm  removed  the  roof  of  the  vicar’s  tithe 
barn.  Every  woman  in  the  place  was  in  danger  of  being 
denounced  as  a  witch  by  some  spiteful  neighbour.  But 
the  witch  hunt  was  not  a  wholesale  massacre  of  harmless 
and  innocent  old  women.  Behind  all  the  ignorant  super¬ 
stition  and  panic-stricken  cruelty  of  the  persecutors  lay 
this  amazing  outbreak  of  real  Devil  worship.  A  religion, 
that  rejoiced  in  everything  that  was  foul  and  evil,  was 
rapidly  gaining  devotees  in  almost  every  village. 

In  1 6 1 1  the  first  copy  of  the  new  Bible  reached  Durford 
The  Vicarage.  This  was  the  only  permanent  result  of 
English  the  Hampton  Court  Conference.  Bishops  and 
Puritans  had  agreed  that  a  fresh  translation  was 
desirable,  and  the  King  had  taken  up  the  scheme  with 
enthusiasm.  T ill  now  there  had  been  three  versions  of  the 
Scriptures  in  circulation.  The  most  popular  was  the 
Geneva  Bible  T  56(4,  a  translation  made  by  English  exiles 
in  Geneva  in  Queen  Mary’s  reign.  Its  quarto  shape  was 
easier  to  handle  than  the  big  folios  that  had  preceded  it  ; 
its  Roman  type  was  easier  to  read  than  the  old  black 
letter  ;  its  division  into  chapters  and  verses  made  it  easier 
to  refer  to  ;  and  its  notes  formed  a  pithy  Calvinistic 
commentary  on  the  text.  Moreover  it  had  maps  and 
metrical  Psalms  and  a  catechism  on  Predestination,  and 
a  list  of  the  “godlie  names”  which  parents  ought  to 
choose  for  their  children,  a  list  which  included  Keren- 
happuch,  Vopsi,  and  Elichoenai.  The  marginal  notes, 
however,  were  unpopular  with  the  Bishops,  especially  the 
one  which  identified  them  with  the  locusts  in  the  Book  of 
Revelation,  and  under  the  leadership  of  Parker  Q568) 
they  issued  the  Bishops’  Bible,  a  rather  hurried  revision 
of  Cranmer’s  Great  Bible.  Thev  wisely  decided  “to 
make  no  bitter  notes  nor  vet  to  set  down  anv  determina- 


150  The  English  Bible. 

tion  in  places  of  controversy,”  but  they  used  their  margin 
for  quaint  little  bits  of  information  like  this:  “  Ophir  is 
thought  to  be  the  Hand  in  the  west  coast  of  late  founde 
by  Christopher  Columbo  Then  came  the  Romanists’ 
version,  the  New  Testament  issued  from  Rheims  in  1  582, 
the  complete  Bible  from  Douai  in  1610.  Its  appearance 
did  not  mean  that  their  Church  had  abandoned  her  old 
attitude  toward  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures.  The  Pre¬ 
face  poured  scorn  on  those  who  would  “so  abuse  the 
blessed  book  of  Christ”  as  to  place  it  “in  the  hands  of 
every  husbandman,  artificer,  prentice,”  yet  confessed  that 
the  special  state  of  the  country  and  the  circulation  of  the 
“prophane”  translations  of  the  heretics  had  made  this 
version  necessary ;  but  it  warned  all  that  “  the  holy 
Scriptures,  though  truly  and  Catholikely  translated,  yet 
may  not  be  indifferently  read  of  al  men,  nor  of  any  other 
than  such  as  have  expresse  licence  therunto  ”.  The 
translation  was  made  from  the  Latin  Vulgate,  which  the 
Preface  boldly  declared  to  be  “  better  than  the  Greek  text 
itself  in  those  places  where  they  disagree,”  and  its  English 
remained  very  nearly  Latin.  “  Beneficience  and  com¬ 
munication  do  not  forget,  for  with  such  hostes  God  is 
promerited  ”  was  its  rendering  of  the  text  “To. do  good 
and  to  distribute  forget  not,  for  with  such  sacrifices  God 
is  well  pleased,”  and  the  reader  constantly  stumbled 
across  such  extraordinarv  words  as  commessations,  coin- 
quination,  azymes,  potestats,  scenopegia.  In  many  places 
the  text  was  tuned  to  a  very  Roman  key.  The  Baptist’s 
cry  of  “  Repent  ”  became  a  cry  of  “  Doe  penance,”  and 
“  forbidding  to  marry  ”  became  “  disallowing  the  sacrament 
of  marriage.”  The  margin,  moreover,  was  full  of  fierce 
little  controversial  notes  :  “  Putting  heretikes  to  death  is 
not  to  shead  the  blood  of  Saints.”  “They  that  com¬ 
municate  with  Heretikes  shal  be  damned  with  them  ”  (a 
hit  at  occasional  conformists).  “  Heretikes  may  by  penal 
lawes  be  compelled  to  the  Catholike  faith.”  “  A  Christian 


The  English  Bible.  15  I 

man  is  bounde  to  burne  al  Heretikal  bookes.”  “  It  is  not 
lawful  for  Catholikes  to  marry  with  Heretikes” — varied 
by  queer  little  bits  of  unexpected  information  :  e.g.  at 
the  death  of  St.  Stephen  “  one  stone  hitting  the  martyr 
on  the  elbow  rebounded  backe  to  a  faithful  man  that 
stoode  neere,  who  was  by  revelation  warned  to  leave  it 
at  Ancona  in  Italie,”  or  again,  “  A  husbandman  in  York¬ 
shire  called  Kitle  had  the  guift  to  see  evil  spirits,  whereby 
he  often  detected  and  hindered  their  bad  purposes.” 
But  now  T611),  after  six  companies  of  scholars  had 
worked  for  “twice  seven  times  seventy-two  days,”  they 
issued  the  greatest  of  all  the  English  versions.  They  did 
not  scorn  the  labour  of  their  predecessors.  “We  never 
thought,”  they  said  in  their  Preface,  “that  we  should 
neede  to  make  a  new  Translation,  nor  yet  to  make  of  a 
bad  one  a  good  one,  but  to  make  a  good  one  better,  or 
out  of  many  good  ones  one  Principall  good  one.”  Even 
the  Douai  Latinisms  were  not  entirely  rejected  :  “  Con¬ 
fession  is  made  unto  salvation  ”  was  seen  to  be  an  improve¬ 
ment  on  “to  acknowledge  maketh  a  man  safe”.  Yet 
substantially  this  translation  remained  that  of  Tindale, 
but  with  every  word  sifted  and  resifted  by  ninety  years  of 
controversy.  Every  expression  that  could  be  challenged 
had  been  challenged  again  and  again.  The  result  was  a 
version  that  won  its  way  by  sheer  force  of  merit.1  All 
competitors,  except  that  of  Douai,  gradually  dropped  out  of 
print,  and  King  James’  Bible  reigned  without  a  rival,  till 
the  appearance  of  the  Revised  Version  of  1 881-5. 

Another  important  feature  of  the  reign  was  the  rise  of  a 
new  school  of  clergy.  A  little  earlier  the  Dutch  Church 

:  Though  later  known  as  the  “  Authorized  ”  Version,  apparently  it 
never  received  any  royal  or  ecclesiastical  sanction.  The  Bishops’  Bible 
remained  on  the  Church  lecterns.  Eight  editions  of  the  Bishops’  New 
Testament  were  issued  by  the  King’s  printers  in  the  next  eight  years. 
The  Geneva  Bible  remained  in  the  homes.  At  least  fifteen  new  editions 
appeared  in  the  next  thirty  years.  The  only  authorization  of  King  James’ 
Bible  was  its  own  excellence. 


The  Arminians. 


An 

Armin- 

ian 

Vicar. 


had  tried  to  compel  its  ministers  to  sign  the  Calvinistic 
Heidelberg  Catechism.  Some  of  them  refused 
to  do  so,  and  their  leader  was  Jacob  Hermann, 
whose  name  was  latinized  as  Arminius.  This  had 
been  the  beginning  of  a  violent  controversy,  which 
had  split  the  Dutch  Church  into  two,  and  it  had  become 
the  fashion  in  England  to  call  every  one  who  opposed 

Calvinism  an  Armin- 
ian.  The  views  of 

the  new  school  were 

? 

rather  indefinite. 
When  some  one  was 
asked  what  they  held, 
h  e  replied  wittily, 
“  the  best  bishoprics 
and  deaneries  in  Eng¬ 
land.”  But  at  all 
events  they  held  two 
truths  which  thor¬ 
ough  -  going  Calvin¬ 
ists  denied  ;  they  be¬ 
lieved  that  Christ  died 
Archbishop  Land.  for  all,  and  that  man’s 

will  is  strong  enough  to  resist  Grace,  and  even  to  fall  from 
it.  John  Matson,  the  new  vicar  of  Durford,  was  a  keen 
Arminian,  a  disciple  of  “little  Doctor  Laud,”  whose 
pupil  he  had  been  at  Oxford.  In  his  vehement  revolt 
against  the  prevailing  Calvinism  he  came  to  the  village 
eager  to  fight,  not  only  extreme  Puritans,  but  all  who 
clung  to  Elizabethan  ways  of  thought  and  worship.  The 
result  of  the  work  of  men  of  this  type  appeared  in  the 
next  reign.  In  1625  Charles  I  succeeded  his  father.  In 
1633  he  made  Laud  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  In  1625 
the  Church  was  strong  and  popular.  By  1 645  bishops  and 
Prayer  Books  were  alike  abolished,  and  the  whole  Church 
system  utterly  swept  away.  What  was  the  explanation  ? 


The  Arminians. 


153 


Four  things  combined  to  cause  the  Church’s  grievous 
The  downfall.  First  the  Arminians  lost  the  respect 
Sunday  of  thousands  of  the  most  religious  people  in  the 
Ques-  country  by  opposing  things  which  the  national 
conscience  recognized  to  be  right.  For  instance, 
nothing  could  be  more  desirable  than  the  growing  feeling 
in  favour,  of  a  quieter  and  more  orderly  Sunday.  In  all 
the  villages  Sunday  had  been  a  day  for  rioting  and  revels. 
Here  is  one  picture  drawn  for  us  by  a  contemporary 
hand  :  “  All  the  wild  heads  choose  a  Captain,  whom  they 
adopt  for  their  King.  He  chooseth  some  three  score  like 
himself  to  guard  his  noble  person.  These  he  investeth 
with  liveries  of  green  and  yellow.  This  done,  they  tie 
about  their  legs  twenty  or  forty  bells.  In  this  sort  they 
go  into  the  church,  though  the  Minister  be  at  prayer  or 
preaching,  dancing  and  swinging  their  handkerchiefs  over 
their  heads  with  such  a  confused  noise,  that  no  one  can 
hear  his  own  voice.  The  foolish  people  they  stare,  they 
laugh,  they  mount  upon  forms  and  pews.  About  the  church 
they  go  again  and  again,  and  so  forth  into  the  church¬ 
yard,  wherein  they  feast  and  dance  all  that  day  and  per- 
adventure  all  that  night  too.”  But  almost  everywhere 
customs  of  this  kind  were  fast  disappearing,  till  bishops 
and  clergy  set  themselves  to  revive  the  Sunday  revels. 
Calvinism  had  identified  the  Lord’s  Day  with  the 
Jewish  Sabbath,  and  so  the  Arminians  delighted  in 
proving  that  they  were  absolutely  distinct.  A  flood  of 
tracts  began  to  appear  on  “Sunday  no  Sabbath”.  In 
1633  every  incumbent  received  from  Laud  and  Charles  a 
declaration,  which  he  was  ordered  to  read  from  the  pul¬ 
pit : 1  “Our  pleasure  is  that  after  the  end  of  Divine 
Service  our  good  people  be  not  discouraged  from  any 
lawful  recreation,  such  as  dancing,  archery,  leaping, 
vaulting,  nor  from  having  of  May  games,  Whitsun  ales 

1  This  was  a  re-issue  of  a  proclamation  made  by  James  I  (1618)  to  deal 
with  a  local  dispute  in  Lancashire. 


154 


The  Arminians. 


and  Morris  dances,  and  the  setting  up  of  May  poles  and 
other  sports  therewith  used.”  Some  Puritans  refused  to 
read  this,  and  were  imprisoned.  Others  read  it,  and  then 
immediately  read  the  Fourth  Commandment,  adding  the 
brief  comment :  “  Beloved,  ye  have  heard  the  command¬ 
ment  of  man,  and  the  commandment  of  God.  Ye  know 
which  ye  ought  to  obey.”  But  the  Arminians  read  it 
with  enthusiasm.  In  their  reaction  against  Calvinistic 
sternness  they  were  drifting  into  a  dangerous  alliance 
with  the  careless,  disreputable  classes  of  the  community, 
and  alienating  sober,  God-fearing  people,  who  should 
have  been  the  backbone  of  the  Church. 

In  the  second  place  they  irritated  the  laity  by  little 
The  innovations  in  ritual.  “  They  have  practised 
Ritual  and  enforced  antiquated  and  obsolete  ceremonies  ” 
Ques*  was  one  of  the  complaints  which  the  men  of 
Kent  sent  to  the  Long  Parliament.  “  He  presseth 
people  to  observe  new  gestures  in  the  church.”  “He 
dops,  ducks,  and  bows,  as  though  made  all  of  joints.” 
“H  e  cringeth  to  the  Table,  when  he  retireth  from  it.” 
“When  he  consecrateth  the  bread  and  wyne,  he  lifteth 
them  up,  and  maketh  obeysance  to  them  three  several 
times.”  “  He  turneth  his  back  to  the  west,  when  he  pro- 
nounceth  the  Creed.”  “  He  carrieth  children  from  baptism 
to  the  Table  to  offer  them  up  to  God  ” — this  was  the 
kind  of  cry  that  was  rising  from  scores  of  parishes.  But 
the  fiercest  controversy  raged  around  the  position  of  the 
Lord’s  Table.  By  the  canon  it  should  have  been  kept 
against  the  east  wall,  but  for  the  Communion  it  might  be 
brought  down  into  the  nave.  It  was,  however,  a  heavy 
piece  of  furniture,  and  in  many  churches,  like  Durford,  it 
was  left  permanently  in  the  middle  of  the  aisle.  Here  it 
became  a  resting-place  for  hats.  Vestry  meetings  sat 
around  it.  Churchwardens  wrote  their  accounts  upon  it. 
Late  comers  sometimes  even  sat  upon  it  for  the  sermon. 
There  was  much  to  be  said  in  favour  of  Laud’s  new  rule, 


The  Arminians. 


155 


that  it  must  be  removed  to  the  east  end,  and  reverently 
railed  in,  and  that  all  who  wished  to  communicate  must 
kneel  at  the  rails.  But  old-fashioned  folk,  who  had  never 
received  the  Communion  anywhere  but  in  their  own  pews, 
naturally  disliked  and  distrusted  this  innovation.  The 
result  in  Durford  and  other  villages  was  an  absolute 
deadlock.  The  vicar  refused  to  come  outside  the  rails. 
The  people  refused  to  go  up  to  them.  He  threatened  to 
present  them  before  the  Archdeacon  for  withdrawing 
from  Communion.  They  threatened  to  indict  him  at  the 
next  assizes  for  withdrawing  the  Communion  from  them. 
And  so  the  miserable  squabble  dragged  on,  causing  con¬ 
tinual  bad  blood  and  bitter  feeling. 

If  Laud’s  changes  in  the  accustomed  ritual  irritated  the 
Tl  e  laity,  his  attempts  at  coercion  absolutely  infuri- 
Poiicv  ated  them.  He  failed  to  realize  that  England 
of  Re-  was  an  adult  nation  now,  ready  to  respond  to 
presbion.  reason  anq  to  leading,  but  absolutely  im¬ 

possible  to  drive.  His  aim,  according  to  his  friend 
Clarendon,  was  that  “  the  discipline  of  the  Church  should 
be  felt  as  well  as  spoken  of.”  There  were  two  Lauds  ; 
the  Laud  whom  his  friends  admired,  the  man  of  piety 
and  learning,  who  loved  his  garden  and  his  music,  who 
revelled  in  rare  books  and  unique  manuscripts,  who  had 
rebuilt  his  college  and  reformed  his  university  ;  and  Laud 
as  the  outside  world  saw  him,  a  bustling  little  martinet 
of  the  country  tradesman  class,  with  a  sharp  tongue,  a 
dogged  will,  and  a  quick  and  irritable  temper.  For  ab¬ 
stract  thought  he  cared  nothing.  It  was  incomprehen¬ 
sible  to  him  that  men  should  get  excited  over  secrets  of 
eternity,  which  they  could  not  hope  to  solve.  A  bishop’s 
first  duty,  he  said,  was  to  enforce  regulations.  He  had 
purged  Oxford  of  Puritanism  by  the  pressure  of  college 
discipline.  He  thought  that  the  same  methods  would 
purge  England  too.  The  Star  Chamber  cropped  the 
ears  of  unruly  laymen.  The  Court  of  High  Commission 


156 


Persecution  of  Puritans , 


muzzled  rebellious  clergy.  His  censorship  of  the  Press 
silenced  all  opposition  literature.  No  book  or  pamphlet 
might  be  printed  anywhere  in  England,  until  he  had  read 


Puritan  in  the  Pillory. 

and  approved  of  its  contents.  His  visitations  brought 
him  closely  in  touch  with  every  parish,  and  left  no 
irregularity  any  possible  corner  to  hide  in.  Every 
churchwarden  had  to  report  to  him  in  writing,  “Do  any 
speak  against  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  the  Church? 


Divine  Right  of  Kings. 


157 


Do  any  read  books  tending  to  Puritanism?”  All  con¬ 
venticles  and  private  meetings  were  sternly  repressed. 
How  real  the  persecution  was  is  proved  by  the  fact  that 
in  twelve  years  20,000  persons  fled  from  England  to 
seek  new  homes  among  the  unknown  forests  and  savage 
tribes  of  America.  At  last  even  Kentish  ploughboys 
began  to  whistle  at  their  work,  “  Give  little  Laud  to  the 
Devill  M. 

The  fourth  cause  of  the  Church’s  fall  was  that  it  made 
the  mistake  of  identifying  itself  with  one  side  in 
politics,  and  that  side  the  wrong  one.  This  was 
a  time  when  political  feeling  was  running  deep 
and  strong.  Great  fundamental  questions  had 
to  be  debated  and  decided.  Was  the  King  of 
England  a  limited  or  an  absolute  ruler?  Could  he 
govern  without  a  Parliament?  Could  he  tax  without 
the  consent  of  Parliament?  Could  he  keep  his  subjects 
in  prison  without  bringing  them  to  trial  ?  It  was  fatal 
at  such  a  time,  when  the  rising  tide  of  constitutional¬ 
ism  was  sweeping  everything  before  it,  that  the  clergy 
should  be  the  chief  advocates  of  the  Divine  Right  of 


The 
Doc¬ 
trine  of 
Divine 
Right. 


Kings.  Durford  was  treated  to  many  a  sermon  on  the 
three  proof  texts — “  By  Me  Kings  reign  ;  ”  “  Submit 
yourselves  to  the  King  as  supreme  ;  ”  “  They  that  resist 
shall  receive  to  themselves  damnation.”  “  The  most 
high  and  sacred  order  of  Kings,”  so  ran  the  first  of  Laud’s 
canons,  “is  of  Divine  Right,  being  the  ordinance  of  God 
Himself.”  In  many  an  eloquent  discourse  Matson  ex¬ 
pounded  this  doctrine.  A  true  King’s  eldest  son  cannot 
forfeit  his  right,  by  any  sin,  by  any  incapacity,  by  any 
act  of  deposition.  The  rightful  heir  alone  is  King, 
though  a  usurping  dynasty  may  have  reigned  for  a  thou¬ 
sand  years.  Kings,  being  God’s  vice-regents,  are  ac¬ 
countable  to  God  alone.  It  is  sin,  sin  which  ensures 
damnation,  under  any  circumstances  to  resist  them.  But 
what  if  a  King  commands  men  to  sin  ?  Then  they  must 


1 58 


Divine  Right  of  Kings. 


give  passive,  not  active,  obedience.  They  must  refrain 
from  doing  the  act,  and  meekly  accept  the  punishment 
which  follows  such  disobedience.  “We  must  patiently 
suffer  what  he  inflicts  on  us  for  such  refusal.  Remember 
Christianity  is  a  religion  of  the  Cross.”  This  strange 
doctrine  did  not  originate  among  courtier  prelates  eager 
to  win  the  favour  of  the  King.  It  sprang  from  the 
struggle  with  Rome.  It  sprang  from  the  Church’s  Pro¬ 
testantism.  It  was  the  answer  of  English  theologians  to 
the  Pope’s  claim  to  depose.  “  All  Kings,”  wrote  Thomas 
Aquinas,  “are  subject  to  the  Pope.”  “No,”  replied 
English  Churchmen,  “  the  King  holds  his  position  directly 
from  God.  No  matter  how  he  may  misgovern,! God  can 
control  his  own  viceroy.  We  must  leave  him  to  God 
to  punish.”  But  now  the  majority  of  thoughtful  laymen 
had  come  to  believe  that  the  King  held  his  power  solely 
from  the  choice  and  consent  of  his  people,  and  it  was 
maddening  to  have  to  hear  Sunday  after  Sunday  from 
the  pulpit :  “His  Majesty  is  not  bound  by  any  laws  of 
this  realm.  His  royal  will  may  not  be  resisted  without 
peril  of  eternal  damnation.” 

At  last  T640)  news  came,  that  Charles  had  been  forced 
The  to  call  a  Parliament,  and  then  the  long  pent-up 
Long  indignation  found  expression.  Kent  chose  as  its 
Parlia-  representative  Sir  Edward  Dering,  a  keen  Church 
reformer  and  a  bitter  opponent  of  Laud  ;  and  his 
first  act  was  to  present  a  great  petition  from  the  county, 
praying  that  the  rule  of  Bishops  “  root  and  branch  may 
be  abolished.”  Similar  petitions  poured  in  from  other 
counties  also,  and  curiously  enough  no  one  regarded  these 
as  attacks  on  the  Church.  Dering  considered  himself 
rather  a  strong  Churchman.  The  House  of  Commons 
opened  its  session  by  receiving  the  Holy  Communion. 
The  idea  that  anyone  could  consider  Bishops  as  essential 
to  the  Church  had  not  entered  the  head  of  any  average 
layman.  The  petitioners  pleaded  for  the  reform  of  cer- 


159 


The  Long  Parliament. 

tain  practical  abuses,  and  among  other  things  the  removal 
of  a  small  group  of  officials,  who  had  proved  themselves 
to  be  a  nuisance.  As  a  first  step  Laud  was  lodged  in 
the  Tower  for  “  subverting  the  constitution.”  The  Star 
Chamber  and  the  Court  of  High  Commission  were 
abolished.  Then  came  the  task  of  investigating  the 
grievances  of  particular  parishes.  A  Committee  for 
Scandalous  Ministers  was  appointed  with  Dering  as  its 
chairman,  and,  when  the  turn  of  Durford  came,  Matson 


Destruction  of  Communion  Rails.1 


was  removed  from  the  living,  “Tor  that  he  hath  refused 
to  administer  the  Lord’s  Supper  to  those  that  would  not 
come  up  to  the  rails,  and  hath  expressed  great  malignity 
against  Parliament  and  the  proceedings  thereof.”  His 
successor  was  Jehoram  Benskin,  a  pronounced  Puritan. 
The  new  Communion  rails  were  quickly  broken  up  for 
firewood,  and  the  Lord’s  Table  brought  back  into  the 
body  of  the  church.  But  soon  the  wilder  spirits  began 
to  get  out  of  hand.  News  came  from  Canterbury  of  the 

1  One  of  Hollar’s  illustrations  in  “The  True  Information  of  the  Be¬ 
ginning  and  Cause  of  all  our  Troubles,”  1648. 


i6o 


Civil  War. 


exploits  of  Blue  Dick,  who  led  a  mob  into  the  Cathedral, 
“  smashed  the  great  idolatrous  windows,  overthrew  the 
Communion  Table,  rent  the  surplices  and  mangled  the 
Service  Books,  bestrewing  all  the  pavement  with  the 
leaves  thereof”.  Moderate  men  became  alarmed,  and 
large  numbers  in  the  county  signed  a  new  petition,  pray¬ 
ing  Parliament  ‘‘both  in  Church  Government  and  in  our 
present  Liturgie  to  give  us  a  severe  Reformation,  not  an 
absolute  Innovation”. 

Meanwhile  the  nation  was  drifting  daily  nearer  war. 

News  came  (1642)  that  the  King  had  fled  from 

London,  and  raised  his  standard  at  Nottingham. 

Durford  farmers  began  to  fall  apart  into  two 
parties.  De  Quetivel  and  his  tenants  wore  in  their  hats 
the  King’s  tawny  ribbons.  Most  of  the  younger  yeomen 
wore  the  Parliament’s  orange.  But  there  was  not  any 
general  rush  to  arms.  In  our  village,  as  in  other  parts 
of  England,  the  majority  remained  neutral.  “  The 
number  of  those  who  desired  to  sit  still  was  greater  than 
those  who  wished  to  engage  in  either  party.”  The 
Sandwich  carrier  brought  the  news  that  a  Puritan 
merchant  and  ten  townsmen  had  scaled  the  walls  of 
Dover  Castle,  and  captured  it  at  midnight  for  Parliament. 
A  troop  arrived  to  search  the  Manor  House  for  arms  and 
ammunition,  but  De  Quetivel  with  his  grooms  and  hunts¬ 
men  had  already  started  for  the  north.  The  keener 
Parliamentary  enthusiasts  also  left  the  village  to  join  the 
army  that  was  going  to  “  free  the  King  from  ill  advisers.” 
But  no  one  yet  realized  what  lay  ahead.  “  We  all 
thought,”  Baxter  confessed,  “  that  one  battle  would 
decide.”  Then  bit  by  bit  news  from  the  war  came  back 
into  the  village.  Everywhere  the  King  seemed  to  be 
winning.  At  Edgehill,  Essex  had  failed  to  check  his 
advance.  Fairfax  was  being  driven  from  Yorkshire. 
Waller  was  crushed  in  the  west  (1643).  Parliament 
could  not  win  without  help  from  Scotland,  and  the  Scots 


The  Covenant. 


161 


demanded,  as  the  price  of  their  help,  that  England  should 
become  Presbyterian.  “  What  hope  can  there  be  of  unity, 
till  there  be  one  form  of  ecclesiastical  government?” 
And  Parliament  gave  way.  One  Sunday  (Feb.,  1644)  a 
copy  of  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  was  nailed  up 
in  Durford  Church  porch.  After  the  sermon  Benskin 
read  it  aloud  from  the  pulpit,  and  then  called  upon  all 
who  were  over  eighteen  to  raise  their  hands  and  take  the 
oath  :  “  With  our  hands  lifted  up  to  the  most  high  God 
we  swear  (1)  that  we  shall  endeavour  to  bring  the 
Churches  of  God  in  the  three  Kingdoms  to  the  nearest 
conjunction  and  uniformity  in  religion  ;  (2)  that  we  shall 
endeavour  the  extirpation  of  popery,  prelacy,  supersti¬ 
tion,  heresy,  schism,  and  profaneness.”  As  he  left  the 
church  everyone  had  to  sign  his  name  or  his  mark  to  the 
roll.  Geneva  had  conquered.  But  Matson  chuckled 
over  the  discovery  that  the  Covenant  contained  666  words, 
the  number  of  the  Beast. 

Some  months  earlier  Parliament  had  summoned  the 
The  Westminster  Assembly  of  12 1  “  godly  and 

New w  learned  divines  ”  “  to  confer  among  themselves 
Service  Qf  such  discipline  and  government  as  may  be 
most  agreeable  to  God’s  Holy  Word  and  most 
apt  to  procure  the  peace  of  the  Church  at  home  and 
nearer  agreement  with  the  Church  of  Scotland  and  other 
Reformed  Churches  abroad,  and  touching  the  Directory 
of  Worship  or  Liturgy  hereafter  to  be  in  the  Church.” 
In  due  time  (1645)  the  new  “Directory  for  Publique 
Worship  ”  reached  Durford.  The  Preface  declared  that 
“sad  experience  hath  made  it  maniiest  that  the  Liturgie 
used  in  the  Church  of  England  hath  proved  an  offence 
not  only  to  many  of  the  Godly  at  home,  but  also  to  the 
Reformed  Churches  abroad.”  The  new  book  contained 
no  prayers,  but  simply  directions  to  the  minister  as  to 
how  the  service  must  be  conducted,  and  what  subjects 
he  must  pray  for  in  his  own  words.  Let  us  watch  a 


1 62 


A  Directory  Service. 


service  in  Durford  Church  according  to  the  new  model. 
The  church  is  full,  for  the  fines  are  still  in  force.  On 
one  side  sit  the  men,  with  their  grey  cloaks  and  knicker¬ 
bockers  and  close-cropped  hair,  all  wearing  their  broad 
brimmed  hats,  which  they  only  remove  for  the  prayers. 
At  their  feet  the  big  sheep  dogs  lie  quietly  curled  up, 

conscious  that  the  dog- 
whipper’s  eyes  are  upon 
them,  and  his  tongs  ready 
to  remove  them,  if  they 
disturb  the  service.  On 
the  other  side  sit  the 
women  with  their  aprons 
and  striped  petticoats  and 
bunched  up  skirts,  and 
their  hairneatly  smoothed 
away  under  linen  caps. 
Benskin  enters,  wearing 
his  hat,  but  neither  gown 
nor  surplice,  and  begins 
with  a  solemn  prayer 
“  acknowledging  the  in¬ 
comprehensible  Great¬ 
ness  and  Majesty  of  the 
Lord  and  humbly  be- 
Dog  Tongs.  seeching  for  Pardon,  As¬ 

sistance,  and  Acceptance  in  the  whole  service.”  Then 
comes  a  lengthy  Bible  Reading — a  Psalm,  an  Old  Testa¬ 
ment  and  a  New  Testament  chapter  with  expositions. 
Then  the  congregation  sing  one  of  Rous’s  “  Psalmes  in 
English  Meeter,”  1  and,  as  few  can  read,  Benskin  gives  out 
each  line  before  they  sing  it.  Then  comes  a  long  and 
wonderfully  comprehensive  extempore  prayer,  acknow¬ 
ledging  “  first  Originall  sin,  and  next  Actuall  sins,  our 


1  These  are  the  Metrical  Psalms  still  used  in  Scotland. 


A  Directory  Service.  163 

own  sins,  the  sins  of  Magistrates,  of  Ministers,  of  the  whole 
Nation,  and  such  other  sins  as  the  congregation  is  particu¬ 
larly  guilty  of,”  praying  for  “  full  assurance  of  Pardon,  for 
sanctification  and  strength,”  for  “the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospell  to  all  Nations  ;  the  conversion  of  the  Jews ;  the 
fall  of  Antichrist ;  the  deliverance  of  the  distressed 
Churches  abroad  ;  our  Plantations  in  remote  parts  of  the 
World ;  that  Church  and  Kingdom,  whereof  we  are 
members;  for  the  King’s  Majesty,  that  God  would  save 
him  from  evill  counsell  ;  the  conversion  of  the  Queen  ; 
the  religious  education  of  the  Prince  ;  for  the  comforting 
of  the  afflicted  Queen  of  Bohemia  ;  for  the  restitution  of 
the  Elector  Palatine  of  the  Rhene  to  all  his  dominions 
and  dignities,”  and  for  twenty-nine  other  subjects  all  duly 
scheduled.  Then  the  sermon,  an  hour  long,  its  progress 
carefully  timed  by  the  running  out  of  the  sand  in  the  great 
pulpit  hour-glass.  Then  another  prayer  giving  thanks 
“  for  the  light  and  liberty  of  the  Gospell,  the  Reformation, 
the  Covenant,  and  many  temporal  blessings,”  the  Lord’s 
Prayer,  another  Psalm,  and  then  the  Blessing.  Anyone 
using  the  old  Prayer  Book,  either  in  public  or  private,  was 
liable  to  a  five  pounds’  fine  for  the  first  offence,  for  the 
third  a  year’s  imprisonment.  But  Matson,  who  con¬ 
ducted  daily  service  in  the  hall  of  the  Manor,  evaded  these 
penalties  by  repeating  the  well-known  prayers  by  heart, 
and  reading  Psalms  and  Epistles  and  Gospels  from  the 
Bible. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


HOW  GENEVA  LOST  ITS  OPPORTUNITY  AND  ROME  WAS 

FINALLY  DEFEATED. 


The 
Failure 
of  Pres¬ 
byter¬ 
ianism. 


With  the  King’s  cause  everything  was  going  ill.  The 
terrible  Cromwell  had  created  a  new  type  of 
soldier,  sober,  sturdy,  God-fearing  ;  and  Rupert’s 
roysterers  could  not  stand  against  the  New  Model. 
Naseby  (1645)  destroyed  the  last  hope  of  a 
Royalist  victory,  and  after  ten  months  of  wander¬ 
ing,  Charles,  “  disguised  as  a  groom,”  took  refuge  with 
the  Scots.  Seven  months  later  (1647)  the  Scots  sur¬ 
rendered  their  embarrassing  guest  to  Parliament.  But 
the  new  Presbyterian  Church  also  was  in  serious  diffi¬ 
culties.  In  more  than  half  the  counties  of  England  its 
elaborate  system  of  classes  and  synods  never  got  to  work. 
In  the  parishes  its  sour  intolerance  was  creating  a  tyranny 
more  galling  than  that  of  Laud,  and  everywhere  men 
were  rebelling  against  its  discipline.  To  the  average 
pleasure-loving  Englishman  it  seemed  to  be 


A  sect  whose  chief  devotion  lies 
In  odd  perverse  antipathies, 


and  in  nothing  was  this  more  true  than  in  its  grotesque 
crusade  against  Christmas.  For  example,  at  Canter¬ 
bury  (1647)  the  Mayor  issued  the  following  proclama¬ 
tion:  “All  persons  are  to  take  heed  and  remember  that 
Christmas  Days  and  all  other  superstitious  festivals  are 
utterly  abolished.  All  ministers  and  churchwardens  are 
warned  that  there  be  no  prayers  or  sermons  in  the 

164 


Failure  of  Presbyterianism.  165 

churches  on  the  said  25th  December.  And  whosoever 
shall  hang  at  his  door  any  holly  or  other  superstitious 
herb  shall  be  liable  to  the  penalties  decreed  by  last  year’s 
ordinance.  And  whosoever  shall  make  either  plum 
pottage  or  nativity  pies  is  hereby  warned  that  it  is  con¬ 
trary  to  the  said  ordinance.’’  In  spite  of  this  a  secret 
service  was  held  in  St.  Andrew’s  Church,  and,  when  the 
Mayor  interfered,  “his  heels  were  slung  up,  and  he  was 
thrown  into  the  kennel.”  The  Grand  Jury  (1648)  re¬ 
fused  to  bring  in  a  true  bill  against  the  rioters,  and 
preparations  went  rapidly  forward  for  a  Royalist  rising. 
An  impostor,  who  landed  at  Sandwich,  declaring  that  he 
was  the  Prince  of  Wales,  was  received  with  transports  of 
joy.  Seven  thousand  men  took  up  arms  for  the  King, 
but  they  were  powerless  against  the  discipline  of  the 
new  Army.  In  one  fight  at  Maidstone  the  revolt  was 
suppressed.  Next  year  (1649  the  4i  Kingdom’s  Weekly 
Intelligencer  ’’  brought  the  news  to  Durford,  that  Charles 
Stuart,  “the  man  of  blood,”  had  been  condemned  to 
death  for  having  “  levied  and  maintained  cruel  war  against 
the  Kingdom,”  and  that  the  office  of  King  had  been 
abolished  as  “  unnecessary,  burdensome,  and  dangerous 
to  the  liberty  of  the  people”.  Next  Sunday  the  board 
with  the  Royal  Arms  had  vanished  from  the  chancel 
arch.  Then  men  learned  how  the  hand  of  Cromwell 
had  crushed  the  rising  in  Ireland  4649),  had  broken  the 
power  of  the  Scots  at  Dunbar  (1650),  had  utterly  de¬ 
feated  the  younger  Charles’  dash  into  England  at  Wor¬ 
cester  (1651),  had  dissolved  with  twenty  musketeers  the 
rump  of  the  Long  Parliament  (1653).  The  Army  could 
beat  down  all  opposition,  but  it  could  not  make  the  new 
Church  popular.  Nor  did  it  wish  to  do  so.  The 
sternest  critics  of  Presbvterianism  were  found  among 
Cromwell’s  troopers. 

At  Durford  interest  centred  round  the  doings  of  Jehu 
Murch,  one  of  Cromwell’s  red-coats,  whom  a  bullet  from 


The  Independents. 


1 66 

Basing  House  had  forced  to  retire  from  the  army.  He 
The  in-  returned  to  the  village  to  be  a  sharp  thorn  in 
depend-  Benskin’s  side,  for,  like  so  many  new  model 
ents'  soldiers,  he  was  an  Independent.  To  him  Pres¬ 
byterianism  was  as  anti-Christian  as  Prelacy.  Every 
attempt  to  think  of  the  Church  as  a  great  institution, 
mapped  out  into  parishes,  controlled  by  Assemblies, 
entering  into  close  relations  with  the  civil  government, 
seemed  the  rankest  blasphemy.  To  him  a  Church  was 
a  little  company  of  truly  converted  persons,  meeting  in 
the  Name  of  Christ  and  claiming  His  Presence  in  the 
midst.  “Besides  these  particular  Churches  there  is  not 
instituted  by  Christ  any  Church  more  extensive  or 
Catholique.”  Each  congregation  formed  a  separate  and 
entirely  autonomous’  Church.  To  Christ  alone  it  was 
responsible  for  its  creed,  its  worship,  and  its  discipline. 
No  neighbouring  Church,  no  Bishop  or  Assembly,  had 
any  right  to  interfere  between  a  Church  and  its  Master. 
In  the  reaction  against  the  rigid  pressure  of  Presby¬ 
terian  discipline,  this  new  ideal  attracted  to  itself  many 
of  the  most  earnest  spirits.  And  one  of  the  most 
burning  questions  of  the  day  was,  Could  men  like  Jehu 
Murch  be  allowed  to  hold  services,  and  form  Indepen¬ 
dent  Churches,  in  the  midst  of  Presbyterian  parishes  ? 
The  Presbyterians  strongly  opposed  any  toleration. 
“To  let  men  serve  God  according  to  their  own  con¬ 
sciences  is  to  cast  out  one  devil  that  seven  wurse  may 
enter  in.”  But  all  the  best  soldiers  in  the  Army  were 
Independents  now.  Cromwell,  Milton,  Vane,  the  three 
greatest  men  of  the  age,  inclined  to  their  side.  And  the 
same  Instrument  of  Government  (1653),  which  made 
Cromwell  Protector,  decreed  that  “  such  as  profess  faith 
in  God  by  Jesus  Christ,  though  differing  from  the  doc¬ 
trine  or  discipline  publicly  held  forth,  shall  not  be  re¬ 
strained  from  the  exercise  of  their  religion,  provided  that 
this  liberty  be  not  extended  to  Popery  or  Prelacy.” 


Failure  of  Presbyterianism. 


1 67 


Henceforth  Murch  was  as  free  in  his  barn  as  Benskin  in 
the  parish  church. 

Every  day  the  Presbyterian  regime  grew  more  and 
Civil  more  unpopular.  It  seemed  heathenish  to  lay  the 
Mar-  dead  in  the  grave  without  a  word  of  prayer,  as 
na°e*  the  Directory  ordered  to  be  done.  Still  more 
heathenish  seemed  the  abolition  of  Christian  marriage 
(1653'.  A  young  couple  might  have  their  banns  called 
“  at  the  close  of  the  morning  Exercise  in  the  publique 
Meeting  Place,  commonly  called  the  Church,”  or  “in  the 
Market  Place  on  three  Market  Days,”  but  for  their 
wedding  they  must  join  hands  before  a  Justice  of  the 
Peace,  “  and  no  other  marriage  shall  be  held  a  marriage 
according  to  the  laws  of  England.”  The  entry  in  the 
Church  register  simply  recorded  the  event :  “  The 

publycations  of  Obadiah  Bourne  and  Temperance  Tay¬ 
lor  wear  on  14.  21.  28  June  published  in  Sandwich 
market  place,  and  they  wear  mairied  16  October  by 
Tobyas  Clerk,  mayar  of  Sandwich.”  How  unpopular 
this  was  is  seen  by  the  fact  that  even  Cromwell’s 
daughters  insisted  on  being  married  secretly  by  a  clergy¬ 
man  with  the  forbidden  Prayer-Book  service. 

Meanwhile  all  sorts  of  strange  preachers  began  to  make 
their  appearance,  and  to  seek  for  converts  upon 
the  village  green.  First  a  fervent  Apostle  of  the 
Family  of  Love,  a  queer  little  Dutch  sect,  with  an 
elaborate  hierarchy  of  various  orders  of  priests, 
very  dangerous  doctrine  of  sinless  perfection. 
Next  a  Fifth  Monarchy  Man,  calling  for  the  abolition  of 
all  existing  institutions — for  did  they  not  spring  from 
William  the  Conqueror,  and  was  he  not  the  Little  Horn 
denounced  in  the  Book  of  Daniel  ?  Then  a  Seeker, 
declaring  that  the  whole  world  was  apostate,  that  nowhere 
could  any  true  Church  or  ministry  or  sacraments  be  found. 
Then  a  Ranter  urging  Durford  folk  to  burn  their  Bibles 
as  “  the  cause  of  all  misery  and  division  in  civil  and 


Relig¬ 

ious 

Chaos. 


and  a 


1 68 


Failure  of  Presbyterianism. 


religious  affairs,”  declaring  that  every  ivy  leaf  and  every 
blade  of  grass  was  God,  calling  men  to  cease  to  “  mind  a 
Christ  who  died  in  Jerusalem,”  but  to  “  eye  and  mind 
the  Christ  in  themselves.”  A  Quaker  from  Deal  burst 
into  “the  Steeple-house,”  as  he  scornfully  called  the 
church,  and  stripped  himself  naked  as  a  sign  to  the  people 
of  their  own  spiritual  nakedness,  and  denounced  Benskin 
to  his  face  as  a  dead  dog  and  a  hireling.  Every  year  it 
became  more  evident  that  the  Commonwealth  had  failed. 
The  Puritans  had  never  been  more  than  a  minority  of 
the  nation,  though  a  noble  and  high-minded  minority, 
immensely  active  and  persistent,  and  even  the  genius  of 
Cromwell  could  not  make  them  a  majority.  They  had 
failed  to  win  the  sympathy  of  old-fashioned  Church  people  ; 
they  had  failed  to  control  the  wilder  spirits  on  their  own 
left ;  they  were  divided  themselves  into  three  camps, 
Presbyterian,  Independent,  Baptist.  Even  the  iron  will 
of  the  great  Protector  sometimes  quailed.  “God 
knows,”  he  cried,  “  I  would  have  been  glad  to  have  lived 
under  my  woodside  and  to  have  kept  a  flock  of  sheep, 
rather  than  have  undertaken  this  government.”  But 
now  the  end  was  near. 

On  Monday,  30  xAjgust,  1658,  the  day  of  the  great 
storm,  Durford  Church  was  thronged  with  people 
The  wrestling  earnestly  in  prayer.  For  news  had 
tion  come  that  Oliver  Cromwell  was  sick  unto  death, 
and  even  those,  who  had  been  his  critics,  trembled 
to  think  what  would  happen  when  he  had  passed 
away.  But  their  prayers  were  not  answered.  On  Sunday 
tidings  reached  the  village  that  Oliver  was  dead,  and 
that  Parliament  had  proclaimed  his  son  Richard  Protector 
in  his  stead — poor,  sluggish  “  Tumbledown  Dick.”  But 
he  had  not  a  chance.  The  Army  made  his  rule  im¬ 
possible,  but  could  not  rule  itself.  The  country  was 
drifting  into  anarchy,  and  it  was  clear  to  all  that  the  only 
hope  of  stable  government  was  to  recall  the  King.  On 


The  Restoration. 


169 


26  May,  1660,  Charles  landed  at  Dover,  and  passed 
through  Durford  the  same  afternoon.  Gaily  the  proces¬ 
sion  cantered  down  the  village  street,  while  the  people 
cheered,  and  the  church  bells  rang  out  a  merry  peal. 
There  was  the  King,  that  tall  figure  by  the  side  of  General 
Monk,  the  little  fat  Presbyterian  to  whom  he  owed  his 
throne.  There  among  the  courtiers  who  rode  behind, 
“all  ribbon,  feather  and  romanco,”  the  villagers 
recognized  Bryan  de  Quetivel,  the  old  grey-headed 
squire,  at  last  come  back  from  his  travels.  As  Benskin 
stood  at  the  churchyard  gate,  and  looked  at  the  dark, 
expressionless  features  of  the  new  King,  he  tried  to 
divine  what  this  man’s  return  would  mean  for  religion. 
For  nineteen  years  Benskin  had  been  minister  of  Durford, 
and  he  had  done  his  work  faithfully  and  well.  Was  he 
now  to  be  ejected  from  his  living,  or  could  some  com¬ 
promise  be  found  in  ceremonies  and  Church  government, 
by  which  he  and  hundreds  like  him  could  be  included  in  the 
N ational  Church  ?  This  was  what  he  hoped  and  expected. 
There  were  cases,  in  Elizabeth’s  reign  and  later,  of  clergy 
in  Presbyterian  orders  received  in  Churches  abroad,  being 
admitted  to  English  benefices  without  reordination.  The 
King  owed  a  great  debt  to  the  Presbyterians.  They, 
more  than  anyone  else,  had  made  his  return  possible. 
Before  he  landed,  he  had  promised  in  the  Declaration 
of  Breda  :  “  No  man  shall  be  disquieted  or  called  in 
question  for  differences  of  opinion  in  matters  of  religion,” 
words  which  the  Presbyterians  interpreted  as  a  pledge  that 
they  should  retain  their  parishes.  This  was  the  great 
question  that  had  now  to  be  settled.  Could  the  Church 
of  England  comprehend  all  that  was  best  in  English 
religious  life,  or  must  it  be  rent  asunder  by  a  terrible 
schism  ? 

For  the  moment  nothing  happened.  The  Royal  Arms 
freshly  painted  reappeared  on  the  Chancel  arch.  Clergy 
ejected  under  the  Commonwealth  were  restored  to  their 


The  Act  of  Uniformity. 


170 


livings.  But  John  Matson  had  long  been  dead,  and  Ben- 
The  Act  skin  remained  undisturbed,  and  continued  to  use 
of  Uni-  every  Sunday  the  Directory,  to  which  the  village 
formity.  jlacj  now  grown  quite  accustomed.  But  very 
anxiously  did  he  look  for  all  the  news  from  London.  It 
was  reported  (1661)  that  the  King  had  appointed  twelve 
Bishops  and  twelve  Presbyterians  to  meet  in  conference 
in  the  Savoy  Palace  “to  review  the  Prayer  Book,  and  to 
make  such  reasonable  alterations  therein,  as  shall  be 
agreed  to  be  needful  or  expedient.”  Then  came  tidings 
that  the  Conference  had  failed,  that  the  Bishops  had 
stiffly  refused  to  make  any  real  concessions,  that  Con¬ 
vocation  had  issued  (1662)  a  new  edition  of  the  Prayer 
Book,  and  that  Parliament  had  passed  a  Bill  enacting  (1) 
that  every  “  person  in  possession  of  any  benefice,  who  is 
not  already  in  Holy  Orders  by  episcopal  ordination,” 
shall  “  before  the  Feast  of  St.  Bartholomew  be  ordained 
according  to  the  form  of  episcopal  ordination,”  or  else 
“all  his  ecclesiastical  promotions  shall  be  void,  as  if  he 
were  naturally  dead  ”  ;  (2)  that  every  “  minister  whatso¬ 
ever  upon  some  Lord’s  Day  before  the  Feast  of  St. 
Bartholomew  shall  publicly  read  Morning  and  Evening 
Prayer  according  to  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,”  and 
then  “  publicly  declare  his  unfeigned  assent  and  consent 
to  everything  contained  or  prescribed  in  the  said  book  ”  ; 
(3)  that  “  no  form  of  common  prayers  shall  be  used  in 
any  church  than  what  is  prescribed  in  the  said  book  ”. 

When  the  news  arrived,  Benskin  saw  that  only  one 
Black  course  was  possible.  “I  cannot,”  he  said,  “after 
Barthol-  being  a  Presbyter  nearly  thirty  years,  declare 
omew.  myself  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost  to  apply  for  the 
office  of  deacon.”  But  for  his  friend  Enoch  Barker  at 
Monksland  the  problem  wasnot  sosimple.  Hewas  already 
in  Episcopal  Orders.  All  would  depend  on  what  the  new 
Prayer  Book  contained.  The  revision  had  been  very 
thorough.  About  six  hundred  alterations  had  been  made. 


The  Nonconformists. 


171 

Obsolete  and  ambiguous  words  had  been  removed. 
Several  beautiful  prayers  had  been  added,  including 
Laud’s  Prayer  for  Parliament,  the  Ember  collects,  the 
General  Thanksgiving,  and  the  Prayer  for  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  men.  Petitions  against  rebellion  and  schism 
had  been  added  to  the  Litany.  An  Office  for  the 
baptism  of  adults  appeared  for  the  first  time,  made 
necessary  “by  the  growth  of  Anabaptism  through  the 
licentiousness  of  the  late  times,”  useful  also  “  for  the 
baptizing  of  Natives  in  our  Plantations.”  But  nothing 
had  been  done  to  meet  the  scruples  which  Barker  felt 
most  strongly ;  the  surplice  was  retained,  and  the  cross 
in  Baptism,  and  the  attitude  of  kneeling  at  Communion, 
Saints’  Days,  and  wedding-rings,  and  lessons  from  the 
Apocrypha,  and  Confirmation  by  Bishops.  Little  groups 
on  the  village  green  discussed  what  he  would  do,  and, 
when  the  critical  Sunday  came,  every  one  was  in  church. 
As  soon  as  he  gave  out  his  text,  it  was  clear  what  his 
decision  was,  “  Esteeming  the  reproach  of  Christ  greater 
riches  than  the  treasures  of  Egypt  ”.  On  Monday  morn¬ 
ing  there  was  a  sale  in  each  vicarage.  That  afternoon 
Barker  and  Benskin  started  off  together  to  face  a  new 
life  of  poverty  in  London.  All  over  England  the  same 
thing  was  happening.  Probably  nearly  two  thousand 
ministers  left  their  parishes.  The  Church  lost  a  large 
proportion  of  its  most  earnest  clergy,  for  it  was  the  best 
who  went  out,  the  careless  and  indifferent  who  conformed. 
It  lost  all  hope  of  being  the  Church  of  the  whole  nation. 
A  large  section  of  English  Christianity  henceforth  would 
be  outside  its  borders.  And  yet  it  is  difficult  to  see 
what  else  could  have  been  done.  No  form  of  service 
could  possibly  be  devised  that  would  satisfy  Prayer  Book 
men  and  men  who  loathed  all  Liturgies,  and  neither 
Churchmen  nor  Presbyterians  would  have  considered  for 
a  moment  the  Independent  suggestion  that  every  parish 
should  do  what  seemed  right  in  its  own  eyes.  For  the 


172 


Restoration  Clergy. 


Two 

Types  of 
Restora¬ 
tion 
Clergy. 


future  at  any  rate  the  Church’s  position  was  unmistak¬ 
ably  defined.  It  was  an  Episcopal  Church,  a  liturgical 
Church,  a  Church  which  had  definite  limits,  outside  which 
no  one  could  step  and  remain  a  member. 

The  filling  of  two  thousand  livings  was  not  an  easy  task. 
To  Monksland  came  Noah  Webb,  a  conform¬ 
ing  Puritan,  who  had  swallowed  all  his  scruples 
and  accepted  ordination,  the  first  of  a  long  succes¬ 
sion  of  Latitudinarian  vicars,  men  who  had  no 
strong  convictions  for  which  they  were  prepared 
to  make  sacrifices.  He  came  prepared  to  do  anything 
that  was  necessary  to  retain  his  benefice,  but  he  soon 
found  that  he  could  continue  many  of  his  old  customs. 
Nothing  happened,  if  he  forgot  to  put  on  his  surplice. 
No  one  haled  him  before  the  Bishop’s  Court,  if  head- 
ministered  Communion  in  the  pews.  No  one  protested, 
if  he  curtailed  part  of  the  Prayer  Book  service  to  leave 
more  time  for  a  long  extempore  prayer  before  the  sermon. 
No  cross  was  ordered  to  be  used  in  the  service  for  private 
baptism,  and  it  was  easy  to  make  it  the  custom  in  the 
village  for  babies  to  be  baptized  at  home.  To  Durford, 
on  the  other  hand,  came  Andrew  P'oat,  a  fierce  old  Cavalier 
parson,  who  during  the  war  had  thrown  off  his  cassock, 
and  served  under  Rupert  as  cornet.  His  long  exile  in 
foreign  lands  had  made  him  irritable  and  intolerant. 
His  creed  had  one  single  clause,  “I  believe  in  the  Divine 
Right  of  Kings  ”. 

Just  as  the  Roman  Church  from  time  to  time  throws 
all  its  strength  into  the  task  of  rousing  enthusi¬ 
asm  for  the  cult  of  some  new  saint,  so  men  like 
P'oat  tried,  night  and  day,  to  work  up  a  passion¬ 
ate  fervour  of  devotion  to  the  Throne.  Two 
new  Red-Letter  Days  were  added  to  the  Prayer-Book 
Calendar.  January  30  was  marked  KING  CHARLES 
MARTYR,  and  men  were  bidden  to  pray  for  “  grace  to 
provide  for  our  latter  end  by  a  careful,  studious  imitation 


The 
Cult  of 
the 
King. 


173 


King  s  Evil. 

of  this  Thy  blessed  Saint.”  May  29  was  consecrated 
to  King  Charles  II,  Nativity  and  Restoration. 
Churches  were  dedicated  to  King  Charles  the  Martyr  in 
various  parts  of  the  country.  The  old  superstition  that 
a  king’s  touch  had  power  to  heal  scrofula  was  revived 
on  such  a  scale,  that  the  days  of  pilgrimage  seemed  to 
have  returned.  Crowds  of  sufferers  from  every  county 
flocked  to  the  King  to  be  cured.  The  Register  of  the 
Chapel  Royal  alone  records  the  touching  of  92,107 
persons,  and  many  thousands  more  were  touched  in  other 
parts  of  the  kingdom.  Durford  Churchwardens’  Ac¬ 
counts  contain  a  typical  entry:  “It  was  ordered  that 
Lovejoy’s  boy  shall  be  carried  to  London  to  be  touched 
for  King’s  Evil  at  the  charge  of  the  parish.”  The  village 
never  tired  of  listening  to  the  lad’s  storv  of  how  the 
Vicar's  friend  had  met  him  at  London  Bridge,  and  had 
taken  him  to  lodgings  near  Whitehall,  how  the  King’s 
chirurgeon  had  examined  him  and  given  him  a  ticket  for 
the  ceremony,  how  the  yeomen  of  the  guard  had  mar¬ 
shalled  the  patients  in  the  great  Banqueting  Chamber, 
how  the  King  had  entered  with  a  wondrous  crowd  of 
clergy,  lords  and  ladies,  how  a  Bishop  had  read  part  of 
the  fourteenth  chaper  of  St.  Mark’s  Gospel,  and,  when  he 
came  to  the  words,  “  They  shall  lay  their  hands  on  the 
sick  and  they  shall  recover,”  Lovejoy  had  been  led  for¬ 
ward  to  the  steps  of  the  throne,  and  the  King  had  stroked 
both  his  cheeks,  and  hung  round  his  neck  a  white  silk 
ribbon  with  a  little  gold  medal  on  it.  Who  could  doubt 
that  the  King  was  more  than  human,  since  he  had  the 
power  of  working  miracles  ! 

But  soon  news  of  another  kind  began  to  come  from 
The  London.  An  uncomfortable  suspicion  spread 
Popish  abroad  that,  though  the  struggle  with  Geneva 
was  over,  Rome  was  still  undismayed  and  plan¬ 
ning  a  new  enterprise.  More  than  a  hundred  and  fifty 
Jesuits  were  now  at  work  in  England,  and  their  Society 


174 


Romanist  Hopes. 


was  never  content  with  the  conversion  of  individuals  ;  it 
sought  to  capture  by  political  methods  supremacy  in  the 
State.  And  they  had  much  at  this  time  in  their  fav¬ 
our.  Charles  was  a  man  utterly  devoid  of  any  personal 
religion,  but  his  knowledge  of  France  had  led  him  to 
believe  that  the  Roman  Church  was  the  most  useful 
Church  to  a  King  who  wished  to  be  absolute.  His  Queen 
was  a  Romanist.  His  eldest  illegitimate  son  was  a  Jesuit 
priest.  His  brother  James,  the  heir  to  the  throne  was 
received  (1669)  into  the  Roman  Church.  Of  the  Cabal 
of  seven  who  ruled  the  country,  two  were  Roman  Catho¬ 
lics.  In  1670  the  King  secretly  pledged  his  word  to 
Louis  XIV  to  declare  himself  a  Romanist,  to  enforce 
Romanism  in  the  English  Church,  and  to  crush  any  re¬ 
sistance  with  French  and  Irish  soldiers.  But  his  first 
step,  the  Declaration  of  Indulgence  (1672),  granting 
freedom  of  worship  to  Roman  Catholics  and  all  other 
Dissenters,  roused  such  a  storm  of  opposition,  that  he 
hesitated^  withdrew  the  Declaration  (1673),  and  post¬ 
poned  indefinitely  his  public  conversion.  The  hopes  of 
the  Jesuits  now  centred  round  James,  and  wild  talk  began 
to  circulate  in  their  seminaries  abroad  about  removing 
Charles  to  make  room  for  his  brother.  Some  of  this  was 
overheard  by  that  rascal  Titus  Oates,  and  one  day  (1679) 
Durford  was  horrified  by  a  pamphlet,  which  Luke  Goldup 
brought  back  from  Sandwich  market,  “A  True  Narrative 
of  the  horrid  Plot  and  Conspiracy  of  the  Popish  Party 
against  the  life  of  his  Sacred  Majesty,  the  Government, 
and  the  Protestant  Religion.”  Most  of  the  details  were 
mere  inventions  of  Oates’  fertile  brain,  but  the  assassina¬ 
tion  of  the  magistrate  who  had  taken  his  deposition,  and 
a  packet  of  letters  hidden  in  a  chimney  by  the  Duchess  of 
York’s  secretary,  showed  that  something  dark  and  danger¬ 
ous  had  been  going  on,  and  the  whole  country  was  seized 
by  a  most  discreditable  panic.  Scores  of  perfectly  in¬ 
nocent  victims  were  hurried  to  the  gallows.  The  green 


The  Struggle  with  Rome. 


1/5 


ribbons  of  Protestantism  fluttered  from  every  hat.  Night 
after  night  the  Pope  was  burnt  in  effigy.  But,  through 
all  the  tumult,  the  Jesuits  bided  their  time. 

It  came  at  last,  when  James  II  succeeded  to  his  brother’s 
throne.  Then  the  newspapers  brought  each 
James  the  week  bewildering  news  to  Durford.  The  King 
had  publicly  declared  himself  a  “son  of  the 
Society  of  Jesus.”  Father  Petre,  the  Jesuit  Vice-Pro¬ 
vincial,  had  been  made  Clerk  of  the  Royal  Closet,  and 
given  sumptuous  apartments  at  Whitehall,  which  James 
himself  had  occupied.  Four  Popish  Bishops  had  arrived 
in  England  as  Vicars  Apostolical.  The  Jesuits  had 
begun  to  open  schools  all  over  the  country.  The  Rector 
of  Putney  had  become  a  Romanist,  and  still  retained  his 
benefice.  The  clergy  had  been  forbidden  to  preach 
against  the  doctrines  of  Rome.  The  Court  of  High 
Commission  had  been  revived,  with  Judge  Jeffreys  as 
President,  to  see  that  this  order  was  obeyed.  The  Bishop 
of  London  had  been  suspended  for  refusing  to  enforce 
the  order.  An  ambassador  had  gone  to  Rome  to  obtain 
the  Pope’s  permission  for  Father  Petre  to  be  made 
Archbishop  of  York.  Two  Oxford  colleges  had  been 
turned  into  Popish  seminaries.  Then  all  the  fellows  of 
Magdalen  had  been  turned  adrift  to  make  room  for 
Roman  successors  with  the  Bishop  of  Madaura  as  Presi¬ 
dent.  A  great  camp  had  been  formed  on  Hounslow 
Heath  to  overawe  London.  The  army  was  being  filled 
with  Roman  Catholic  officers.  It  seemed  as  though  the 
days  of  Mary  were  going  to  return. 


Just  at  this  critical  time  there  came  across  the  Channel 
The  tidings  of  how  Louis  XIV  was  treating  his  Pro- 
French  testant  subjects.  He  had  quartered  dragoons  on 
^e-  ^  all  their  houses  with  orders  to  convert  them  by 
force.  “  There  is  no  wickedness  or  horror  which 
they  did  not  put  in  practice  to  force  them  to  change  their 
religion.  They  hung  men  and  women. by  the  hair  or  feet 


1 76  The  Coming  of  the  Huguenots. 

on  the  chimney  hooks,  and  smoked  them  with  wisps  of 
wet  hay,  till  they  were  no  longer  able  to  bear  it ;  and, 
when  they  had  taken  them  down,  if  they  would  not 
sign,  they  hung  them  up  immediately  again.  They  tied 
ropes  under  their  arms  and  plunged  them  into  wells, 
from  whence  they  would  not  take  them,  till  they 
had  promised  to  change  their  religion.  They  stripped 
them  naked,  and  stuck  them  with  pins  from  the  top  to 
the  bottom.  With  red-hot  pincers  they  took  them  by  the 
nose,  and  dragged  them  about  their  rooms,  till  they 
promised  to  be  Catholics.  They  held  them  from  sleeping 
seven  or  eight  days,  relieving  one  another  day  and  night 
to  keep  them  waking.”  Then  (1685)  the  Edict  of  Nantes, 
by  which  Louis’  grandfather  had  granted  freedom  of 
worship  to  the  Huguenots,  was  revoked.  All  Protestant 
places  of  worship  were  razed  to  the  ground.  All  Pro¬ 
testant  services  of  anvkind  were  forbidden.  All  children 
of  Protestant  families  were  baptized  by  a  priest,  and 
torn  away  from  their  parents  to  be  brought  up  in  con¬ 
vents.  Any  attempt  to  leave  the  kingdom  was  punished 
by  sentence  to  the  galleys.  Yet,  in  spite  of  the  way  the 
coast  was  watched,  thousands  of  refugees  began  to  pour 
into  Kent,  some  hidden  in  wine  casks,  some  beneath 
bales  of  cloth,  some  making  their  way  across  the  Strait 
in  open  boats,  and  in  Dover,  Sandwich,  Canterbury, 
Maidstone,  they  received  the  warmest  welcome.  All 
E  ngland  was  ringing  with  the  story  of  their  sufferings. 
A  Brief  authorized  every  parish  to  make  a  collection  to 
relieve  them,  and  this  produced  the  remarkable  sum  of 
£63,000.  And  as  every  market-day  Durford  men  brought 
home  fresh  stories  of  torture  perpetrated  by  the  French 
King  and  his  Jesuits,  they  said  to  one  another,  Our  King 
too  is  a  tool  of  fanatical  Jesuits  ;  our  King  too  has  de¬ 
clared  his  desire  to  convert  every  Protestant  in  his  realm. 
Is  this  what  he  is  planning  for  us? 

The  one  hope  left  to  Englishmen  lay  in  the  fact  that 


The  Declaration  of  Indulgence. 


1 77 


James  had  no  son,  and  both  his  daughters  were  Protes- 
The  tants.  Indeed  Mary,  his  heir,  was  the  wife  of  the 
Seven  champion  of  Protestantism  in  Europe,  William, 
Bishops.  prjnce  of  Orange.  Whatever  James  did  would 
be  undone,  when  Mary  came  to  the  throne.  But  soon 
even  this  hope  became  uncertain.  For  Jasper  Webb, 
Vicar  of  Durford,  received  a  Form  of  Thanksgiving, 
which  he  was  ordered  to  use  in  church,  praising  God  for 
His  goodness  in  giving  the  Queen  the  hope  of  bearing  a 
child.  If  the  unborn  infant  should  prove  to  be  a  boy, 
then  indeed  the  Jesuits  would  triumph.  For  he  would 
be  their  pupil,  and  the  future  King.  Even  those  who 
had  been  the  firmest  believers  in  Divine  Right  began  to 
feel  that  duty  demanded  something  sterner  than  passive 
obedience.  A  few  months  later  (1688),  Jasper  Webb  had 
to  make  his  decision.  A  Declaration  arrived  from  the 
King,  which  he  was  ordered  to  read  aloud  from  the  pulpit. 
In  this  James  declared  :  “We  heartily  wish  that  all  the 
people  of  our  dominions  were  members  of  the  Catholic 
Church,’’  and  announced  that,  “by  virtue  of  our  Royal 
Prerogative,”  he  had  suspended  all  laws  against  Roman¬ 
ists  and  other  Dissenters.  What  would  Webb  do?  In 
those  days  of  slow  communication  there  was  hardly  any 
chance  of  concerted  action.  At  the  best  he  would  only 
be  able  to  take  counsel  with  a  few  of  his  nearest  neigh- 
hours.  The  King’s  mood  was  arbitrary.  The  Ecclesi¬ 
astical  Commission  was  as  summary  as  a  court  martial. 
To  refuse  to  read  meant  almost  certainly  to  be  ejected 
from  his  living,  and  to  be  declared  incapable  of  holding 
any  other  preferment.  Yet  he  disobeyed.  James  had 
made  even  such  a  man  as  Jasper  Webb  a  rebel.  And  then 
he  learned  that  practically  all  the  clergy  had  done  the 
same  ;  that  Archbishop  Bancroft  and  six  other  Bishops 
had  ventured  to  petition  the  King  against  the  Declara¬ 
tion,  “because  it  is  founded  on  such  a  dispensing  power 
as  hath  been  often  declared  illegal  in  Parliament”  ;  that 


178 


The  Revolution. 


James  had  clapped  all  seven  into  the  Tower  on  the  charge 
of  issuing  a  false,  seditious,  and  malicious  libel  against 
him  ;  that  they  had  gone  to  prison  through  lanes  of 
kneeling  men  and  women,  who  begged  for  their  benedic¬ 
tion  and  kissed  their  robes.  Then  Durford  waited 
anxiously  for  the  result  of  their  trial,  and  the  night  that 
the  squire’s  groom  brought  the  news  that  the  verdict  was 
not  guilty,  there  was  the  biggest  bonfire  on  the  green 
that  the  oldest  inhabitant  could  remember,  and  from 
every  village  round  you  could  hear  the  church  bells 
ringing. 

But  there  was  another  piece  of  news,  and  this  was  far 
The  more  serious.  The  Queen’s  child  had  been  born, 
Revolu-  and  it  was  a  boy  !  The  nation  flatly  refused  to 
ti°n.  believe  that  such  a  calamity  could  have  happened. 
A  sentence  in  a  Jesuit  manual  was  unearthed  or  invented, 
which  declared  it  lawful,  when  the  good  of  the  Church 
required,  to  practise  pious  fraud  and  bring  forward  an 
imaginary  heir.  The  wildest  tales  gained  credence.  The 
boy  was  not  born  of  the  Queen  at  all,  but  a  miller’s  brat 
smuggled  into  the  Royal  bed  in  a  warming-pan.  The 
King  had  stooped  to  common  trickery  to  keep  his 
daughter  from  the  throne.  This  was  false,  but  the  next 
piece  of  news  was  true.  The  King  had  commanded  the 
Archdeacons  to  send  to  Judge  Jeffreys  the  names  of  all 
clergy,  who  had  failed  to  read  the  Declaration.  In 
thousands  of  quiet  country  vicarages  clergy  began  to 
consider  whether  they  had  rightly  interpreted  the  doctrine 
of  Passive  Obedience.  “  True,”  they  said,  “  St.  Paul 
taught  that  Christians  must  not  rebel,  even  against 
Nero.  But  suppose  somebody  else  rebelled,  suppose  the 
Senate  and  the  Legions  rose  to  hurl  him  from  his  throne, 
St.  Paul  never  enjoined  Churchmen  to  fly  to  arms  in  his 
support.  We  may  not  resist  King  James,”  they  argued, 
“  but  if  the  Whigs  resist  him,  we  are  not  bound  to  rescue 
him.”  And  the  Whigs  were  already  acting.  The  rumour 


The  Revolution. 


i/9 


spread  that  an  invitation  had  been  sent  to  William  of 
Orange,  the  son  of  James’  elder  sister,  and  husband  of 
James’  daughter;  that  he  was  coming  to  call  a  free 
Parliament,  which  would  decide  what  steps  should  be 
taken  to  preserve  English  liberty  and  the  Protestant 
Religion  ;  that  the  Bishops  had  refused  the  King’s 
command  to  sign  a  Declaration  of  Abhorrence  of  his 
coming.  One  afternoon  a  breathless  courier  galloped 
through  Durford  with  tidings  that  William’s  fleet  was 
passing  Dover  and  sailing  westward.  Five  weeks  later 
all  was  over.  The  bloodless  Revolution  was  accom¬ 
plished.  William  was  in  Whitehall.  James  had  fled  to 
France.  The  Jesuits  had  played  their  last  card,  and  been 
beaten. 


* 


12 


CHAPTER  XII. 


HOW  THE  CHURCH  WENT  TO  SLEEP. 

The  Revolution  was  over.  The  majority  of  the  nation 
The  had  accepted  William  and  Mary  as  King  and 

Non-  Queen.  And  now  (1689)  “all  ecclesiastical 

Jurors.  persons,”  from  the  Primate  to  the  humblest  curate, 
from  the  heads  of  the  Universities  to  the  master  of  the 
poorest  grammar  school,  were  required  to  take  the  oath  of 
allegiance  to  the  new  sovereigns.  What  would  the  clergy 
do  ?  They  had  all  sworn  to  “  be  faithful  and  bear  true 
allegiance  to”  King  James.  They  had  all  taught  that  it 
was  sin  to  resist  the  Lord’s  Anointed.  Crabb  at  Monks- 
land  had  no  scruples  about  being  a  Complier.  He  argued 
that  James  had  broken  his  oaths,  and  so  all  his  subjects 
were  absolved  from  theirs.  But  Webb  at  Durford  was 
in  a  different  position.  He  honestly  believed  that  Divine 
Right,  Non-resistance,  and  Passive  Obedience  were  “  not 
only  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  this  Church,  but 
Principal  Points  of  Christianity.”  He  felt  that  his  oath 
to  James  was  binding  as  long  as  that  king  lived.  He 
was  willing  to  recognize  William  as  Regent,  but  could 
not  acknowledge  him  as  King.  He  refused  to  take  the 
new  oath,  and  eight  Bishops,  including  the  Archbishop 
and  saintly  Bishop  Ken,  and  about  four  hundred  beneficed 
clergy,  did  the  same.  Six  months  later  (Feb.,  1690)  he 
was  evicted  from  the  Vicarage,  and  found  shelter  in  the 
Manor  House,  which  Horace  de  Quetivel,  true  to  the 
old  family  tradition  of  loyalty  to  lost  causes,  now  made 


The  Non- Jurors. 


1 8 1 


a  harbour  of  refuge  for  Jacobites  and  Non-Jurors,  while 
Humphrey  Beale,  a  Whig  and  a  Latitude  man,  came  to 
be  Vicar  of  Durford. 

The  Non-Jurors  had  now  to  face  the  question,  Could 
they  remain  in  communion  with  the  Church  as  private 
persons.  Their  answer  was  No.  The  Communion 
Service,  the  Litany,  Morning  and  Evening  Prayer,  all 
alike  were  tainted  with  sinful  prayers  for  the  Dutch 
usurper.  Archbishop  Bancroft  declared  that  those  who 
attended  their  parish  churches  “  would  need  Absolution 
at  the  end  as  well  as  the  beginning  of  the  Service.” 
Moreover  all  who  recognized  in  any  way  the  intruded 
Bishops  were  guilty  of  the  sin  of  schism,  and  therefore 
excommunicate.  “  Those  Priests  or  Bishops,  who  dare 
Usurp  the  Thrones  of  Rightful  Canonical  Bishops  in- 
validly,  unjustly  and  illegally  deprived,  are  very  Corahs 
from  whom  the  Lord’s  People  ought  to  separate.  They 
can  perform  no  valid  Acts  of  Priesthood.  Their  very 
Prayers  are  Sin.  Their  Sacraments  are  no  Sacraments. 
They  and  all  that  adhere  to  them  are  out  of  the  Church  ; 
they  can  claim  no  Benefits  of  God’s  promises,  no  not  of 
H  is  Assisting  Grace,  nor  of  the  Remission  of  Sins 
through  the  Merits  of  Christ’s  Blood.”  Believing  this, 
the  only  course  open  to  the  Non-Jurors  was  to  organize 
themselves  into  a  separate  Church,  which  they  did,  de¬ 
claring  that  theirs  was  the  only  true  Church  of  England, 
ordaining  fresh  clergy  and  consecrating  fresh  bishops  to 
continue  the  succession,  which  did  not  die  out  till  1805. 
But  long  before  then  they  had  disappeared  from  our 
village. 

Humphrey  Beale,  the  new  vicar  (1690),  was  a  typical 
A  Lati-  Latitude  man.  Puritans  and  Non-Jurors  were 
tudina-  both  alike  to  him  crack-brained  fanatics.  On 
nan.  all  points  of  doctrine  he  was  bored  and  indifferent. 
It  was  hopeless,  he  held,  to  try  to  understand  all  Divine 
truth.  The  really  essential  parts  of  Christianity  are 


Sir  Roger  going  to  Church 


The  Latitudinarians. 


183 


quite  clear  and  simple.  Why  could  not  foolish  people 
be  content  with  those?  Anything  more  always  led  men 
to  be  nonsensical  and  immoderate.  His  sermons  were 
largely  made  up  of  phrases  culled  from  those  of  Tillotson, 
the  new  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  :  “Christianity  is  the 
most  reasonable  religion  in  the  world  “  It  requires  of 
us  only  such  things  as  do  approve  themselves  to  the  best 
reason  of  mankind.”  “  We  must  take  care  not  to  go 
out  of  our  depths,  and  lose  ourselves  in  profound  inquiry 
into  the  deep  things  of  God.”  “  Zeal  is  dangerous,  even 
in  the  hands  of  wise  men,  and  to  be  governed  and  kept 
in  with  a  strict  rein  ;  otherwise  it  will  transport  them  to 
the  doing  of  undue  and  irregular  things.”  “The  best 
way  to  preserve  a  right  judgement  in  matters  of  religion 
is  to  take  great  care  of  a  good  life.”  “  If  we  be  careful 
to  do  our  best,  we  shall  be  accepted  of  God.”  A  dry, 
cold,  sterile  creed,  a  religion  from  which  all  the  poetry 
and  all  the  fire,  all  the  colour  and  all  the  beauty,  all  the 
romance  and  all  the  mystery,  had  been  carefully  elimi¬ 
nated,  a  religion  which  made  the  eighteenth  century, 
which  we  are  just  entering,  the  dullest  and  least  fruit¬ 
ful  period  of  our  Church's  history. 

These  were  the  days  when  the  squire  was  king  of 
Under  the  village,  and  the  vicar  had  to  take  a  very  sub- 
Queen  ordinate  place.  Sir  Roger  de  Ouetivel,  when 
Anne.  his  father  died,  returned  to  the  Established 
Church,  and,  if  we  wish  to  picture  him,  we  can  hardly  do 
better  than  look  at  the  delightful  sketch  which  Addison 
drew  of  his  friend  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  :  “  Sir  Roger, 
being  a  good  Churchman,  has  beautified  the  Inside  of 
his  Church  with  several  Texts  of  his  own  chusing.  He 
has  often  told  me  that  at  his  coming  to  his  Estate  he 
found  his  Parishioners  very  irregular  ;  and  that,  in  order 
to  make  them  kneel  and  join  in  the  Responses,  he  gave 
everyone  of  them  a  Hassock  and  a  Common  Prayer 
Book,  and  at  the  same  time  employed  an  itinerant  Sing- 


184 


An  Eighteenth  Century  Squire. 


ing  Master  to  instruct  them  rightly  in  the  tunes  of  the 
Psalms.  As  Sir  Roger  is  Landlord  to  the  whole  Con¬ 
gregation,  he  keeps  them  in  very  good  Order,  and  will 
suffer  no  Body  to  sleep  besides  himself;  for,  if  by  chance 
he  has  been  surprized  into  a  short  Nap  at  Sermon,  upon 
recovering  out  of  it,  he  stands  up,  and,  if  he  sees  any 
Body  else  nodding,  either  wakes  them  himself,  or  sends 
his  Servants  to  them.  Sometimes  he  stands  up,  when 
every  Body  else  is  upon  their  Knees,  to  count  the  Con¬ 
gregation,  or  see  if  any  of  his  Tenants  are  missing.  As 
soon  as  the  Sermon  is  finished,  no  Body  presumes  to 
stir,  till  Sir  Roger  is  gone  out  of  the  Church.  The 
Knight  walks  down  from  his  Seat  in  the  Chancel,  between 
a  double  Row  of  his  Tenants,  that  stand  bowing  to  him 
on  each  Side,  and  every  now  and  then  enquires  how 
such  a  one’s  Wife  or  Mother  or  Son  or  Father  do,  whom 
he  does  not  see  at  Church,  which  is  understood  as  a 
secret  Reprimand  to  the  Person  that  is  absent.” 

When  Beale  died,  Sir  Roger  “  desired  a  Friend  of  his 
at  the  University  to  find  him  out  a  clergyman,  rather  of 
plain  Sense  than  of  much  Learning,  of  a  good  Aspect,  a 
clear  Voice,  a  sociable  Temper,  and,  if  possible,  a  Man 
that  understood  a  little  of  Back  gammon.”  “At  his 
first  settling  with  me,”  he  said,  “  I  made  him  a  Present 
of  all  the  good  Sermons,  which  have  been  preached  in 
English,  and  only  begged  of  him,  that  every  Sunday  he 
would  pronounce  one  of  them  from  the  Pulpit.”  So  long 
as  the  old  Squire  lived,  everything  in  the  village  was  very 
decorous  and  orderly.  The  people  came  to  church  on 
Sunday.  Some  of  them  were  really  devout  in  a  quiet, 
humdrum  sort  of  way.  Duty  was  the  most  emphatic 
word  in  their  conception  of  religion ;  the  Christian  must 
do  his  duty  to  God  and  his  duty  to  his  neighbour. 

But  old  Sir  Roger  was  succeeded  by  his  nephew 
Terence,  a  gorgeous  person  in  frills  and  muff  and  ruffles 
and  a  perfumed  wig,  which  fell  in  ringlets  half-way  down 


The  Deists. 


185 


his  back  ;  from  his  gold-laced  hat  to  his  gold-buckled 

A  Deist  s^oes  an  Exquisite  of  the  finest  water.  He  was  a 
friend  and  flatterer  of  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales, 
and  a  member  of  the  new  Dilettante  Club,  the  qualifica¬ 
tions  for  which  were  habitual  drunkenness  and  a  visit  to 
Italy.  Yet  even  he  had  inherited  something  of  the  family 
interest  in  Theology,  and  liked  to  pose  as  a  champion  of 
the  shallow  and  confident  Deism,  which  was  fast  becom¬ 
ing  the  creed  of  polite  society.  The  old  Squire’s 
favourite  Sunday  books,  “  The  Whole  Duty  of  Man,” 
Nelson’s  “Companion  to  the  Fasts  and  Festivals,”  and 
Synge’s  “  Gentleman’s  Religion,”  were  banished  to  the 
top  shelf,  and  their  place  taken  by  intruders  with  a  very 
different  message.  Here  was  Toland’s  “  Christianity  not 
Mysterious”  (1697)  with  its  bold  assertion  that  a  true 
Christianity  can  contain  nothing  but  plain,  demonstrable 
truths,  and  that,  since  the  historic  creed  of  Christen¬ 
dom  was  full  of  “  unreasonable  ”  mysteries,  it  clearly  could 
not  be  true  Christianity  at  all.  Here  was  poor  crazy 
Woolston’s  “Discourses  on  the  Miracles”  (1729),  calling 
our  Lord  “a  strolling  fortune-teller,”  and  explaining  the 
story  of  Cana  by  the  fact  that  the  guests  had  “  well 
drunk.”  Here  was  Tindal’s  “  Christianity  as  old  as  the 
Creation”  (1730),  contrasting  the  God  of  Nature  with 
the  God  of  Christian  Theology  very  much  to  the  disad¬ 
vantage  of  the  latter.  “  I  believe  in  a  Great  Supreme 
Being  enormously  remote  from  this  world  ” — this  was  the 
fashionable  creed  in  early  Hanoverian  England — “  I 
believe  in  a  Religion  of  Nature,  as  old  as  the  Creation, 
so  perfect  as  to  leave  no  need  or  room  for  any  later  re¬ 
velation,  either  Jewish  or  Christian.  I  believe  that  most 
of  the  Bible  is  a  tissue  of  fables  and  folly.  I  believe 
that  the  Pagan  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  is 
a  plausible  hypothesis,  but  the  Christian  doctrine  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  body  is  utterly  opposed  to  reason. 
I  believe  in  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  for  the  Distant  Deity 


The  Eighteenth  Century. 


1 86 

is  so  indulgent  and  sin  such  a  trivial  thing,  that  pardon 
must  follow  as  a  matter  of  course.” 

When  the  man  who  knew  a  little  of  backgammon 
Ab_  died,  the  new  Squire  gave  the  living  to  Simon 
sentee  Parre,  a  wag  who  had  tickled  his  sense  of  humour 
vicars.  with  some  stories  out  of  Rabelais  in  a  London 
coffee-house.  But  as  Parre  already  had  six  livings  in 
various  parts  of  the  country,  he  never  troubled  Durford 
with  his  presence.  He  accepted  the  £50  a  year  as  a  slight 
addition  to  his  income,  and  contracted  with  a  Canterbury 
curate  to  do  the  absolutely  necessary  work  for  ^15  a  year. 
The  blight  of  pluralities  and  non-residence  had  now 
settled  down  on  England.  For  a  quarter  of  a  century 
the  village  never  saw  its  vicar,  except  on  one  occasion, 
when  a  pompous  and  irritable  stranger  in  a  full-bottomed 
wig  arrived  to  settle  some  dispute  about  the  letting  of  the 
glebe.  Parre  was  succeeded  by  Robert  Holt,  keeper  of 
the  Archives  at  Oxford,  who  laboriously  collected  in  the 
next  few  years  a  vast  amount  of  detailed  information 
about  village  life  in  Attica  in  the  time  of  Pericles, 
but  never  knew  to  the  end  of  his  days  whether  Durford 
was  in  Kent  or  Cumberland.  He  in  his  turn  was  suc¬ 
ceeded  by  a  gentleman  named  Supple,  who  spent  most 
of  his  time  conducting  young  noblemen  on  continental 
tours.  But  he  had  not  altogether  forgotten  that  he  was 
by  profession  a  divine.  Had  he  not  published  two  fat 
little  octavo  volumes — “A  Defence  of  Moderation  in  the 
Practice  of  Religion,”  and  a  “Vindication  of  the  Divine 
Ordinance  of  Tithes”?  Meanwhile  on  Sundays,  if  the 
weather  was  not  too  unpleasant,  a  curate  rode  out  from 
Canterbury  to  conduct  a  service.  The  time  of  his  arrival 
was  quite  uncertain,  for  he  did  duty  in  four  parishes  before 
he  reached  Durford,  and  weddings,  funerals,  baptisms, 
were  always  liable  to  delay  him,  since  every  kind  of 
service  had  to  wait  for  his  weekly  visit.  Dibble  the 
clerk  used  to  climb  the  tower  to  watch  for  the  coming  of 


The  Sleeping  Congregation  (from  print  by  Wm.  Hogarth) 


1 88 


The  Eighteenth  Century. 


the  parson,  and  ring  the  bell,  when  he  saw  him  begin  to 
cross  the  marshes.  The  curate  would  gallop  up  to  the 
door,  fling  a  grimy  surplice  loosely  over  his  shoulders, 
rattle  through  the  morning  service  to  half  a  dozen  people 
who  had  hurriedly  assembled,  take  a  baptism  and  a  funeral, 
toss  off  a  glass  of  ale,  and  disappear  over  the  brow  of  the 
hill  on  his  way  to  the  next  village. 

Under  such  a  system  the  church  grew  every  year  more 
The  shabby  and  neglected.  The  village  boys  broke 
Church  the  windows,  and  no  one  troubled  to  repair  them. 
in  .  A  mouldy  smell  from  the  De  Quetivel  vaults 
came  up  through  the  broken  floor.  The  rain  and 
snow  poured  in  through  a  dozen  holes  in  the  roof.  The 
damp  traced  fantastic  patterns  of  green  upon  the  walls. 
Strange  kinds  of  fungus  flourished  in  the  corners  of  the 
pews.  The  only  bit  of  fresh  paint  in  the  whole  building 
was  the  huge  board  with  the  list  of  benefactors  on  the 
west  wall,  which  the  Bishops  were  everywhere  insisting 
on  at  this  time,  because  so  many  benefactions  had 
disappeared.  The  mildewed,  rat-eaten  Registers  were 
piled  on  the  floor  just  behind  the  font.  Outside,  the 
churchyard  was  a  wilderness  of  docks  and  nettles,  con¬ 
cealing  fallen  tombstones,  and  even  skulls  and  bones. 
Well  might  Addison  declare  that  there  was  “less  ap¬ 
pearance  of  religion  in  England  than  in  any  neighbouring 
kinedom.”  For  the  first  time  for  twelve  centuries  Dur- 
ford  Church  had  ceased  to  have  any  appreciable  influence 
on  the  village  life. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HOW  THE  CHURCH  AWOKE  FROM  SLUMBER. 

At  Monksland  the  state  of  things  was  just  as  bad,  till 
one  day  there  came  riding  up  the  hill  a  trim  little 
Wesley  figure  hi  cassock,  knee-breeches,  and  black  silk 
stockings,  the  old  correct  clerical  dress  which 
was  fast  going  out  of  fashion,  with  reins  lying  loose  on 
his  horse’s  neck,  and  hands  grasping  a  small  volume 
held  up  to  his  eyes.  It  was  John  Wesley,  Fellow  of 
Lincoln  College,  Oxford,  who,  ever  since  that  day  in 
1738  when  he  first  grasped  the  full  meaning  of  St.  Paul’s 
great  doctrine  of  Justification,  had  given  himself  to  the 
work  of  a  wandering  missioner,  riding  eight  thousand 
miles  a  year  up  and  down  England,  preaching  the 
Gospel  wherever  he  could  find  men  and  women  to  listen 
to  him.  Outside  the  Chequers  a  group  of  idlers  watched 
the  coming  of  the  stranger  with  a  vague  interest,  which 
quickened  into  blank  amazement,  when  he  dismounted, 
climbed  on  to  a  low  wall,  and  began  to  speak.  Gradu¬ 
ally  it  dawned  upon  their  dull  minds  that  he  was 
preaching  them  a  sermon  ;  a  parson,  obviously  a  scholar 
and  a  gentleman,  preaching  in  the  open  air  !  The  in¬ 
credible  news  spread  like  wildfire  through  the  village, 
and  almost  the  entire  population  came  running  up  to 
listen.  Before  long  they  began  to  realize  that  this  was 
no  ordinary  sermon.  The  stranger’s  voice  was  very 
quiet.  He  told  no  anecdotes.  He  employed  no  tricks 
of  oratory.  But  his  words  had  a  steel-like  edge.  His 

189 


190 


The  Methodists. 


solemn  and  transparent  earnestness  was  most  disquiet¬ 
ing.  The  swift  abrupt  sentences  came  with  the  rush  and 
impact  of  bullets.  As  he  reasoned  in  that  calm,  level 
voice  of  his  of  sin  and  judgement  to  come,  the  most 
hardened  evil-doers  trembled  ;  they  saw  the  horror  of 
sin,  they  saw  the  reality  of  God,  no  longer  a  dim,  remote 
Figure,  but  a  Saviour  close  at  hand,  waiting  with  out¬ 
stretched  arms  to  welcome  all  who  would  hear  and  come. 

As  he  finished,  a  score  of  them  drew  near,  and  begged 
\Meth-  with  tears  in  their  eyes  to  teach  them  more 

odist  of  these  things.  Enoch  Grey,  the  smith,  offered 
Society,  hjg  forge,  and  there  behind  closed  doors  Wesley 
examined  them,  and  prayed  with  them,  and  formed  them 
into  a  little  society,  and  appointed  Enoch  as  their  leader. 
With  his  own  hands  he  then  wrote  out  a  code  of  rules 
which  they  pledged  themselves  to  obey  : — 

“  I.  Abstain  from  evil,  especially  buying  and  selling 
on  the  Sabbath.  Neither  sell  nor  buy  anything  that  has 
not  paid  the  duty.  Defraud  not  the  King  any  more  than 
your  fellow-subject.  Never  think  of  being  religious,  un¬ 
less  you  are  honest. 

“  2.  Taste  no  spirituous  liquor.  Pawn  nothing,  no  not 
to  save  life.  Wear  no  needless  ornaments,  such  as  rings, 
earrings,  necklaces.  Use  no  needless  self-indulgence, 
such  as  taking  snuff  or  tobacco. 

“  3.  Use  private  prayer  every  day,  and  family  prayer, 
if  you  are  head  of  a  family. 

“  4.  Keep  to  the  Church.  They  that  do  this  best, 
prosper  most  in  their  souls.  I  suffer  no  meetings  under 
any  pretext  to  be  held  during  Church  hours.  When 
Methodists  leave  the  Church,  God  will  leave  them. 

“  5.  Lose  no  opportunity  of  receiving  the  Sacrament. 
All  who  have  neglected  this  have  suffered  loss.  Most 
of  them  are  as  dead  as  stone. 

“  6.  Meet  in  class  once  a  week.  Whoever  misses 
class  thrice  together,  thereby  excludes  himself.  Meet 


The  Methodists. 


1 91 

the  brethren  or  leave  them.  It  is  not  honest  to  profess- 
yourself  of  a  Society,  and  not  obey  the  rules  thereof.” 

For  a  time  the  new  converts  loyally  obeyed  their  in¬ 
structions.  Every  Sunday  they  filled  two  benches  in 
their  parish  chruch,  to  the  amazement  of  the  curate,  who 
had  never  seen  so  large  a  congregation  before  ;  and  on 
Sunday  night  and  Wednesday  evening  they  gathered  in 
the  forge  for  informal  devotional  meetings  of  their  own. 
But  souls  new  born,  aflame  with  zeal  and  desire  for 
worship,  could  find  but  little  satisfaction  in  the  slovenly, 
formal,  lifeless  service  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  the 
curate  did  all  that  he  could  to  make  it  even  less  accept¬ 
able  by  reading  a  set  of  dreary  sermons  on  the  sin  of 
enthusiasm,  which  an  enterprising  Canterbury  bookseller 
let  out  on  hire  to  clergy  who  were  troubled  by  the 
presence  of  Methodists  in  their  parishes.  Meanwhile 
Enoch  Grey  developed  a  gift  of  rugged,  homely  exposi¬ 
tion.  The  services  in  the  forge  grew  more  and  more 
attractive  ;  those  in  the  church  more  and  more  intoler¬ 
able.  In  spite  of  strong  remonstrances  from  Wesley, 
the  Churchmanship  of  Monksland  Methodists  grew  more 
and  more  nominal.  In  time  they  began  to  hold  their 
meetings  during  Church  hours.  Later  a  red  brick 
preaching-house  was  built,  and  licensed  under  the  Con¬ 
venticle  Act  as  a  dissenting  place  of  worship.  Enoch 
Grey  and  all  his  followers  were  lost  to  the  Church. 

When  Wesley  left  Monksland  and  rode  on  to  Durford, 
he  found  a  far  happier  state  of  things.  The  de- 
Early  generate  heir  of  the  house  of  De  Quetivel, 
Evyv  after  wasting  all  his  substance  on  quadrille  and 
basset,  had  offered  for  sale  the  advowson  of  the 
living  of  which  he  was  patron.  His  advertisement 
happened  to  catch  the  eye  (1760)  of  John  Thornton 
of  Clapham,  Director  of  the  Russia  Company,  who  was 
using  his  wealth  to  provide  a  more  spiritual  type  of 
clergy  for  every  parish  he  could  influence.  He  promptly 


192 


The  Evangelicals. 

bought  the  patronage  and  appointed  Charles  Stennett 
as  vicar.  Stennett,  while  curate  of  a  city  church,  had 
ridden  out  to  Blackheath  to  see  one  of  the  open-air 
services  which  George  Whitefield,  Wesley’s  friend  and 
fellow-worker,  was  conducting.  He  had  gone  to  scoff, 
but  had  remained  to  pray.  His  whole  conception  of 
Christianity  was  transformed  by  that  visit.  On  the 
following  Sunday  he  scandalized  his  decorous  city  con¬ 
gregation  by  a  fervent  sermon  on  the  text  “  Redemp¬ 
tion  through  His  Blood.”  Monday  found  him  dismissed 
from  his  curacy  and  without  the  smallest  prospect  of 
being  able  to  find  another.  Fortunately  a  rumour  of  his 
sermon  had  reached  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  the 
benevolent  lady  who  was  playing  the  part  of  a  “  mother 
in  Israel  ”  to  the  few  scattered  and  persecuted  clergy 
who  had  been  touched  with  the  spirit  of  the  Revival. 
For  a  year  or  two  Stennett  acted  as  one  of  her  chaplains. 
Now  that  he  was  Vicar  of  Durford,  Wesley  knew  that  in 
that  part  of  Kent  there  was  always  one  church  and  vicar¬ 
age,  in  which  he  would  never  fail  to  find  the  warmest 
welcome. 

Thus  the  Revival  had  an  opposite  effect  upon  the  two 
villages.  At  Monksland  it  made  the  Church  even  weaker 
and  colder  than  before,  for  the  real  spiritual  life  of  the 
place  now  centred  round  the  forge.  At  Durford  it  made 
the  Church  a  new  power  and  source  of  blessing.  It 
meant  a  great  change  to  have  once  more  a  resident  vicar, 
but  no  one  guessed  how  great  the  change  would  be. 
Cobbin  the  clerk  was  told  again  and  again  that  he  was 
a  liar,  when  he  spread  the  news  that  the  new  vicar  meant 
to  have  ten  services  in  church  every  week,  besides  at 
least  half  a  dozen  other  meetings.  Every  day  there  was 
going  to  be  service  at  five  o’clock  in  the  morning  that 
every  one  might  begin  his  day’s  work  with  prayer. 
On  Sundays,  besides  the  morning  and  afternoon  services, 
the  church  was  going  to  be  lighted  with  candles  for  an 


The  Evangelicals. 


193 


Hymn¬ 

singing. 


evening  service.  Another  candlelight  service  would  be 
held  every  Thursday  evening.  Nor  was  this  all.  In 
flat  defiance  of  the  Conventicle  Act,  which  forbade  any 
service  except  in  church  or  a  licensed  dissenting  chapel, 
Stennett  arranged  with  two  old  women  in  outlying 
hamlets  to  hold  services  in  their  cottages  on  Monday 
and  Friday.  On  Sundays  there  was  a  Prayer  Meeting 
in  the  vicarage  kitchen  at  six  o’clock  in  the  morning, 
and  another  meeting  for  prayer  and  hymn-singing  at  the 
close  of  evening  service.  There  was  a  Prayer  Meeting 
every  Tuesday  evening,  and,  as  men  and  women  ex¬ 
pressed  a  desire  for  a  better  life,  Stennett  formed  them 
into  a  little  society  which  met  at  his  house  on  Wednes¬ 
days. 

At  first  the  village  scoffed  loudly  at  these  unheard-of 
methods  ;  but  curiosity  made  them  come  to  see 
what  it  all  meant,  and,  when  they  came,  they 
heard  something  which  made  them  come  again. 
Hymn-singing  too  in  church  was  a  daring  but  delightful 
innovation.  Hitherto  the  only  music  had  been  one  of 
Sternhold  and  Hopkins’  Psalms,  roared  as  a  solo  by 
Cobbin  the  clerk.  But  Stennett  had  brought  down  from 
London  with  him  a  box  of  Martin  Madan’s  collection  of 
“  Psalms  and  Hymns  ”.  Hobbs  and  Dobbs  found  them¬ 
selves  now  invited  to  sing  “  Love  Divine,  all  love  excel¬ 
ling,”  and  “Jesu,  Lover  of  my  soul.”  Moreover  the 
west  gallery  was  given  over  to  the  choir,  Mund  the  Miller 
was  asked  to  bring  his  beloved  violoncello.  Old  Master 
Sage  the  Ditcher  brought  his  key-bugle.  Some  one  else 
was  discovered  to  own  a  hautboy,  and  some  one  else  a 
bassoon.  Many  certainly  possessed  strong  and  musical 
voices,  and  were  proud  to  be  in  the  church  choir.  The 
whole  parish  began  to  get  interested  once  more  in  the 
services.  It  quickly  grew  ashamed  of  the  dirty  and 
dilapidated  state  of  the  church  building,  and  set  to  work 
strenuously  to  clean  and  repair  it.  And  soon  a  new 

1  3 


A  Village  Choir,  by  T.  Webster*  R.A. 


The  Evangelicals.  1 95 

gallery  had  to  be  added  to  accommodate  the  congrega¬ 
tion. 

In  1784,  Stennett  read  an  account  of  the  Sunday 
The  School  which  Robert  Raikes  had  started  for  the 
Sunday  urchins  of  Gloucester,  and  he  determined  that 
School.  Durford  should  have  a  Sunday  School  also.  Old 
Mother  Ayles  was  very  proud  of  the  fact  that  she  could 
read,  and  for  a  shilling  a  week  she  was  glad  to  promise 
to  receive  in  her  cottage  as  many  children  as  the  Vicar 
could  persuade  to  attend,  “  there  to  teach  them  to  spell 
and  read  the  Bible  and  the  Prayer  Book  for  two  hours 
every  Sabbath  morning  and  for  two  hours  every  Sabbath 
afternoon,  and  to  bring  the  children  to  Church  to  Morn¬ 
ing  and  Afternoon  Service.”  The  Churchwardens’  Ac¬ 
count  Book  records  the  fact  that  on  the  following  Easter, 
the  “  Sacrament  Money  was  applied  for  the  purpose  to 
purchase  eleven  spelling-books,  forty-eight  catechism 
books,  four  hornbooks,  and  six  Testaments  for  the 
Sunday  School.” 

When  at  last,  after  forty  years  of  faithful  persevering 
^  work,  Stennett  passed  to  his  rest,  John  Desmond 

Simeon-  came  from  Clapham  to  be  Vicar  of  Durford.  As 
lte-  a  boy  he  had  gone  to  Hull  Grammar  School, 
and  there,  like  so  many  other  lads  who  did  grand  work 
for  God  in  later  years,  he  had  fallen  strongly  under  the 
influence  of  Joseph  Milner,  the  head-master.  The  Elland 
Society,  which  had  been  founded  (1777)  to  help  promis¬ 
ing  young  Evangelicals  who  hoped  to  take  orders,  had  sent 
him  to  Cambridge,  where  he  had  entered  Queens’  which 
his  old  head-master’s  brother  Isaac  was  making  a  training 
ground  for  Evangelical  clergy.  Here  he  had  become  an 
eager  disciple  of  Charles  Simeon,  Incumbent  of  Trinity 
Church,  and  in  his  famous  Bible  Class  and  Sermon  Class 
and  Conversation  Circle  had  learnt  how  to  give  convinc¬ 
ing  reasons  for  the  faith  that  was  in  him.  Then  he  had 
gone  to  Clapham  to  be  curate  to  John  Venn,  and  thus 

13  * 


The  Village  Pastor. 


197 


The  Evangelicals. 

had  come  in  close  touch  with  that  remarkable  group  of 
laymen,  whom  Sydney  Smith  maliciously  nicknamed  the 
Clapham  Sect.  To  have  known  Henry  Thornton,  the 
banker,  and  William  Wilberforce,  the  most  brilliant 
speaker  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  Charles  Grant, 
the  Chairman  of  the  East  India  Company,  and  Lord 
Teignmouth,  who  had  been  Governor-General  of  India, 
and  Zachary  Macaulay,  who  had  been  Governor  of  Sierra 
Leone,  to  have  worshipped  with  them,  to  have  watched 
at  close  quarters  their  strenuous  and  self-denying  piety, 
to  have  had  some  share  in  the  stubborn  fight  that  they 
were  waging  against  the  slave  trade,  was  a  better  educa¬ 
tion  for  a  young  man  even  than  Simeon’s  Bible  Classes. 

He  came  to  Durford  full  of  zeal  and  determination  to 
The  guide  the  deep  and  fervent  piety,  which  his  pre- 
Great  decessor  had  fostered,  into  channels  of  self-denial 
SocL-  and  sacrifice  for  others.  The  Church  Missionary 
Society  had  been  founded  in  1799,  and  every 
year  Durford  now  had  its  missionary  collection.  A  Penny 
Association  was  formed  to  collect  from  door  to  door. 
Occasionally  some  great  preacher  arrived  from  London 
in  a  post-chaise  heavily  laden  with  reports  andi pamphlets, 
one  of  the  Evangelical  leaders,  who  was  giving  seven 
weeks  to  the  work  of  visiting  the  villages  to  stir  up  en¬ 
thusiasm  for  the  missionary  cause.  One  society  after 
another  was  founded  in  rapid  succession,  and  Durford 
folk  were  expected  to  do  what  theyicould  for  them  all. 
The  Bible  Society  began  its  work  (1804)  of  supplying 
every  nation  in  the  world  with  Bibles  in  its  own  language. 
The  Jews’  Society  undertook  the  task  (1809)  of  trying  to 
win  the  whole  Jewish  race  at  home  and  abroad.  Church¬ 
men,  even  in  obscure  villages  like  Durford,  were  learning 
to  dream  dreams  and  to  think  imperially. 

And  this  is  the  more  remarkable  as  they  had  other 
urgent  matters  to  attend  to.  Just  across  the  Straits  of 
Dover  in  the  great  camp  at  Boulogne  was  “  the  Corsican 


198 


The  Napoleon  Scare. 


Ogre 


The 

Napo¬ 

leon 

Scare. 


with  160,000  veterans,  waiting  for  a  moonless 
night,  when  our  Admiral's  back  was  turned,  to 
slip  across  the  Channel  in  his  flat-bottomed  boats. 
The  west  end  of  the  church  was  blocked  with  the 
parish  firelocks,  and  all  the  able-bodied  men  in 
the  village  spent  two  hours  drilling  every  Sunday  after¬ 
noon.  Behind  the  church,  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  stood 
the  great  beacon,  ready  to  give  the  alarm  as  soon  as  the 
French  should  land.  Every  man  knew  his  special  duty 
and  was  never  tired  of  discussing  it.  Crabstock  and  his 
sons  were  to  go  to  the  marshes,  and  block  every  sluice, 
so  that  they  should  be  flooded.  Churchwarden  Drain 
with  one  party  would  destroy  the  roads.  Churchwarden 
Broyd  with  another  party  would  collect  all  the  horses 
and  cattle,  and  entrust  them  to  reliable  men  to  drive  far 
inland.  Farmer  Brant  was  responsible  for  seeing  that 
all  the  corn  and  provisions  were  burnt.  In  the  hour  of 
danger  the  parish  church  became  the  natural  centre  of 
all  the  patriotic  fervour  of  the  village.  Many  a  special 
service  was  held,  and  in  a  corner  of  the  church  safe  still 
lie  a  bundle  of  the  prayers  “issued  by  his  Majesty’s 
Special  Command  ”  for  use  on  these  occasions  ;  some 
very  anxious  and  uneasy — “We  are  threatened  with  in¬ 
vasion  by  a  fierce  and  haughty  foe,  for  that  we  alone 
among  the  Nations  are  found  to  withstand  his  Ambition  ”  ; 
others  jubilant  and  triumphant — “We  acknowledge  with 
thankful  hearts  Thy  great  goodness  in  the  glorious  success 
which  Thou  hast  vouchsafed  unto  the  fleet  of  our  Sove¬ 
reign,”  till  at  last  we  reach  the  form  of  thanksgiving  for 
Waterloo — “  Grant  that  the  result  of  this  mighty  battle, 
terrible  in  conflict,  but  glorious  beyond  example  in  success, 
may  put  an  end  to  the  miseries  of  Europe,  and  stanch 
the  blood  of  nations.” 

Monksland  also  now  possessed  a  resident  vicar.  The 
Bishops  were  beginning  to  bring  steady  pressure  on  their 
clergy  to  live  in  their  parishes,  though  it  took  more  than 


The  Low  Churchmen . 


199 


another  generation  before  the  evils  of  non-residence  were 
generally  overcome.  But  very  few  were  Evan- 
Chu°ch  like  the  Vicar  of  Durford.  Most  of  the 

man.  clergy  belonged  to  the  school  of  which  Lawrence 
Peke  of  Monksland  was  a  favourable  example. 
He  was  the  Squire’s  younger  brother.  Elis  professional 
duties  were  one  Sunday  service,  weddings,  funerals,  and 
an  occasional  visit  to  the  sick,  if  sent  for.  When  the 
spread  of  Methodism  stirred  him  up  to  start  a  second 
service,  he  entered  a  cautious  note  in  the  Church  Register  : 
“  I,  Lawrence  Peke,  Vicar,  do  hereby  declare  that  I  am 
not  bound  by  any  obligation  whatever  to  serve  this 
Church  twice  on  Sunday,  but  that  I  am  influenced  thereto 
purely  upon  conscientious  motives,  and  that  I  think  my¬ 
self  at  liberty  to  discontinue  it  at  any  time,  whenever 
there  appears  to  me  cause  or  reason  for  so  doing.”  On 
week-days  he  lived  just  like  his  neighbours,  distinguished 
only  by  his  white  neck  cloth  and  a  greater  watchfulness 
in  his  words  and  actions.  He  farmed  his  own  glebe,  and 
he  farmed  it  well.  No  one  in  the  parish  knew  more 
than  he  about  hops,  or  oilcake,  or  turnips.  He  was  a 
keen  sportsman,  and  shot  and  hunted  regularly.  Once 
a  year  he  always  rode  into  Canterbury  for  the  races. 
As  a  magistrate  he  was  a  terror  to  evil-doers.  Everyone 
in  the  parish  called  him  “  the  master,”  the  person  who 
was  responsible  for  keeping  order,  and  who  knew  howto 
keep  it.  About  theology  he  knew  nothing,  and  he  cared 
less.  His  message  was  summed  up  in  the  single  clause 
misquoted  from  the  Catechism,  “  Do  your  duty  in  the 
state  of  life  into  which  it  has  pleased  God  to  call  you.” 
He  disliked  Dissenters,  but  he  abominated  Evangelicals, 
and  he  sent  his  son  to  Oxford  to  escape  the  influence  of 
Simeon. 

Another  person  of  almost  equal  importance  in  the 
village  was  Jerry  Briscall,  parish  clerk,  and  landlord 
of  the  Chequers.  No  one  then  saw  anything  strange  in 


200 


A  Parish  Clerk. 


this  combination  of  duties,  nor  in  the  response  which 
he  always  added  to  the  end  of  each  funeral  ser- 
Parish  vlce>  “  Friends  of  the  corpse  is  respectfully  re- 

Clerk.  quested  to  call  at  my  house  for  refreshments.” 

On  Sunday  he  was  an  imposing  figure  in  wig 
and  horn  spectacles,  thundering  out  “Arummen”  at  the 
close  of  every  prayer,  from  the  lowest  compartment  of 
the  great  three  decker,  which  formed  clerk’s  desk,  reading 
desk,  and  pulpit.  He  regarded  the  service  as  a  duologue 
between  himself  and  the  Vicar,  and  on  one  occasion 
when  a  rash  stranger  ventured  to  join  in  the  responses 
he  looked  up  with  the  fierce  query,  “  Who’s  that  interrupt¬ 
ing?  ”  It  was  his  privilege  to  choose  and  announce  the 
Psalm  from  Sternhold  and  Hopkins — for,  of  course,  noth¬ 
ing  so  Methodistical  as  a  hymn  was  tolerated — “Let  us 
sing  to  the  praise  and  glory  of  God  the  hundred  and  twelfth 
Psalm,”  an  invitation  which  no  one  ever  dreamed  of  ac¬ 
cepting,  except  the  choir  of  three  men  and  a  boy  in  the 
west  gallery,  who  practised  every  Saturday  night  under 
his  supervision  in  the  bar-parlour. 

Meanwhile  for  forty  years  Desmond  remained  Vicar 
of  Durford,  for  these  were  the  days  when  Evan- 
Liberal  gelical  clergy  hardly  ever  changed  their  parishes, 
but  in  his  old  age  two  new  movements  arose, 
which  disquieted  and  distressed  him.  Young  Thomas 
de  Ouetivel  went  to  Rugby  and  then  to  Oriel,  and  re¬ 
turned  eager  to  discuss  with  his  old  god-father  the  new 
ideas  that  he  had  learnt  from  Arnold  and  the  Liberals. 
He  brought  home  Milman’s  “  History  of  the  Jews  ”  (1830), 
the  first  attempt  by  any  English  clergyman  to  treat  the 
Old  Testament  story  from  a  “  strictly  historical,  not 
theological  ”  standpoint.  Here  Desmond  to  his  horror 
found  the  chosen  people  of  God  described  as  though  they 
had  been  an  ordinary  Oriental  tribe  ;  Abraham  was  a 
“  Sheikh,”  Joseph  a  “  Vizier,”  the  Judges  were  “  guerilla 
leaders  ”  ;  and  with  great  ingenuity  a  natural  explanation 


The  Liberals. 


201 


was  suggested  for  every  miracle.  Equally  startling  from 
another  point  of  view  was  Arnold’s  “  Principles  of 
Church  Reform  ”  (1833),  which  pleaded  passionately  that 
Churchmen,  Presbyterians,  Congregationalists,  Baptists, 
and  Methodists  should  combine  to  form  one  Church, 
“  thoroughly  national,  thoroughly  united,  thoroughly 
Christian,  which  should  allow  great  varieties  of  opinion 
and  of  ceremonies  and  of  forms  of  worship  according  to 
the  various  knowledge  and  habits  and  tempers  of  its 
members,  while  it  truly  held  one  common  faith,  and 
trusted  in  one  common  Saviour,  and  worshipped  one 
common  God.”  Episcopacy  must  be  retained,  but  an 
Episcopacy  “  divested  of  all  those  points  against  which 
the  objections  of  Dissenters  have  been  particularly 
levelled.”  “  Episcopalians  will  be  satisfied,  if  the  mere 
name  of  Bishop  is  preserved.”  The  Prayer  Book  should 
be  used  once  a  Sunday,  but  any  number  of  “  freer  and 
more  social  services  ”  might  be  “  performed  at  different 
times  of  the  day  within  the  walls  of  the  same  church.” 

But,  if  old-fashioned  Pivangelicals  were  alarmed  by 
what  the  Liberals  proposed,  one  little  group  of 
tarian^  another  school  was  stung  into  vehement  opposi¬ 
tion.  Keble,  the  gentle  Vicar  of  Hursley,  startled 
Oxford  (1833)  by  a  sermon  on  National  Apostacy. 
Newman,  to  whom  an  ever-increasing  number  of  under¬ 
graduates  gave  an  almost  adoring  hero-worship,  declared 
that  Liberalism  was  Antichrist.  And  young  Walter 
Peke  of  Monksland  had  become  one  of  his  most  fervent 
pupils  and  disciples.  He  had  not  missed  one  of  New¬ 
man’s  famous  sermons  in  St.  Mary’s  or  of  his  lectures 
in  Adam  de  Brome’s  dark  and  dreary  little  chapel.  And 
now  he  was  enrolled  as  a  “Propagandist”  of  the  new 
Association  of  Friends  of  the  Church.  Authority,  Dis¬ 
cipline,  Mystery — these  were  the  three  master  words 
around  which  his  thoughts  turned.  And  one  day  (1833) 
he  rode  into  Durford  with  saddle-bags  bursting  with  a 


202 


The  Oxford  Movement. 


series  of  “  Tracts  for  the  Times,”  of  which  Newman  was 
editor  and  the  moving  spirit.  “  Magnify  your  office,” 
was  the  cry  of  these  Tracts  to  the  clergy.  “  Make  men 
familiar  with  the  thought  of  the  Church,  living,  catholic, 
continuous.  Lift  high  its  authority  against  that  of  re¬ 
bellious  reason  and  the  apostate  state.  Without  valid 
Sacraments  no  soul  can  be  sure  of  salvation  ;  and  valid 
Sacraments  can  nowhere  be  found,  save  in  a  Church 
which  can  show  Apostolic  Succession.  It  is  impossible 
to  exaggerate  the  unique  position  of  the  Church  of  which 
you  are  ministers,  the  very  Church  which  Christ  founded, 
the  Church  which  still  possesses  all  the  powers  and  pre¬ 
rogatives  that  He  gave  it,  the  appointed  channel  of  grace 
for  God’s  people,  the  pillar  and  the  ground  of  truth.” 
Desmond  read  the  Tracts  carefully,  but  they  left  him  un¬ 
convinced.  To  him  life  was  far  more  important  than 
organization  ;  the  value  of  a  Church  depended  on  the 
spiritual  life  of  its  members.  “It  is  not  by  exalting 
its  ancient  pedigree  that  our  Church  will  be  saved,”  he 
.said,  “  but  by  filling  its  ranks  with  truly  converted 
Christians.” 

He  and  Peke  had  many  an  opportunity  of  discussing 
Th  these  points  together,  for  the  latter  came  to  the 
Rome-  family  living  of  Monksland,  but  the  more  Des- 

ward  mond  saw  of  the  Oxford  movement,  the  less  he 

liked  it.  It  began  with  an  honest  desire  to 
magnify  the  position  of  the  Church  of  England,  but  it 
soon  became  clear  that  not  a  few  of  the  younger  men 
were  drifting  into  an  attitude  of  scorn  for  the  Church  of 


their  baptism,  and  of  wistful  admiration  for  the  Church 
of  Rome.  “  I  hate  the  Reformation  and  the  Reformers,” 
wrote  Froude.  “  I  utterly  reject  and  anathematize,” 
wrote  Parker,  “the  principle  of  Protestantism.”  “We 
are  little  satisfied  with  our  position,”  wrote  Dalgairns  to 
a  French  newspaper,  “  we  groan  at  the  sins  committed  by 
our  ancestors  in  separating  from  the  Catholic  world.  We 


The  Oxford  Movement. 


203 


love  with  unfeigned  affection  the  Apostolic  See,  which 
we  acknowledge  to  be  the  head  of  Christendom.” 
“Were  we  to  pursue,”  wrote  Ward  in  his  “Ideal  of  a 
Christian  Church,”  “  such  a  line  of  conduct  as  has  here 
been  sketched,  we  should  be  taught  from  above  to  dis¬ 
cern  the  plain  marks  of  Divine  wisdom  and  authority  in 
the  Roman  Church,  to  repent  in  sorrow  and  bitterness  of 
heart  over  our  great  sin  in  deserting  her  communion,  and 
to  sue  humbly  at  her  feet  for  pardon  and  restoration.” 

But  nothing  gave  so  great  a  shock  to  Churchmen  of 
every  other  school  as  the  ninetieth  Tract  (1841)  which 
was  Newman’s  answer  to  the  question,  “What 
^ct  do  you  make  of  the  Thirty-Nine  Articles? 

Surely  they  commit  the  Church  to  a  definitely 
anti-Roman  position!”  His  answer  was  to  plead  three 
points  which  he  thought  indisputable  :  (1)  that  the  modern 
creed  of  Rome  is  contained  in  the  decrees  of  the  Council 
of  Trent,  and  the  decrees  which  dealt  with  such  points 
as  Purgatory,  Pardon,  Relics,  and  the  Sacrifice  of  the 
Mass  had  not  been  issued  at  the  time  when  our  Articles 
were  drawn  up  :  therefore  the  Articles  were  not  directed 
against  the  official  creed  of  Rome,  as  we  know  it  ; 1  (2) 
that  in  the  days  before  the  Council  of  Trent  popular 
Romish  belief  and  practice  had  far  outrun  the  authorized 
dogmatic  standards  of  the  Church  ;  and  (3)  that  at  the 
time  the  Articles  were  published  hope  had  not  been  aban¬ 
doned  of  including  all  who  still  sympathized  with  the  old 
ways  within  the  Church  of  England.  From  this  he  drew  the 
conclusion  that,  when  the  Articles  declare  “  the  Romish 

1  The  historical  question  was  more  complicated  than  Newman  seemed 
to  realize.  The  Council  of  Trent  lasted  from  1545  to  1563.  The  Articles 
were  begun  in  1549,  issued  1553  and  revised  1562.  The  decrees  of 
16  out  of  the  25  sessions  of  the  Council  were  known  in  England 
before  the  first  issue  of  the  Articles ;  the  decrees  of  22  before  the 
revision  of  1562.  And  though  Newman  was  right  in  saying  that 
Articles  22  and  3r  were  issued  before  the  decrees  of  Trent  on  these  points 
were  drafted,  the  English  divines  had  plenty  of  evidence  before  them  to 
show  what  those  decrees  would  almost  certainly  be. 


204 


The  Oxford  Movement. 


doctrine  concerning  purgatory  ”  to  be  “  a  fond  thing  vainly 
invented,”  or  transubstantiation  to  be  “repugnant  to  the 
plain  words  of  Scripture,”  or  “the  sacrifice  of  masses” 
to  be  “  blasphemous  fables  and  dangerous  deceits,”  they 
are  only  attacking  some  unauthorized  superstitions  and 
corruptions,  which  cautious  Roman  theologians  would 
themselves  have  condemned.  “  The  Protestant  Confes¬ 
sion  was  drawn  up  with  the  purpose  of  including  Catho¬ 
lics  ;  and  Catholics  will  not  now  be  excluded.”  Newman 
was  undoubtedly  perfectly  sincere.  “  I  was  utterly  with¬ 
out  any  idea,”  he  wrote,  “  that  my  Tract  would  make  any 
disturbance.”  But  to  many  of  his  readers  the  Tract  ap¬ 
peared  a  most  insidious  and  uncandid  piece  of  special 
pleading,  an  attempt  to  explain  away  perfectly  straight¬ 
forward  language ;  and  a  storm  of  protest  arose.  The 
Hebdomadal  Council  of  his  University  censured  it ;  bishop 
after  bishop  condemned  it ;  and  Newman  bowed  before 
the  tempest.  The  Tracts  were  discontinued.  Their 
editor  withdrew  to  his  country  parish  of  Littlemore. 
Then  came  the  news  that  one  by  one  the  Oxford  men 
were  being  received  into  the  Church  of  Rome.  Ward 
and  Dalgairns  went  over  in  September  (i  845),  Newman 
himself  and  Oakeley  and  Bowles  and  Stanton  in  Octo¬ 
ber,  P'aber  in  November,  Coffin,  Vicar  of  St.  Mary  Mag¬ 
dalene,  Oxford,  in  December.  Men  said  for  the  moment 
that  the  Oxford  Movement  was  dead.  But  they  were 
mistaken.  Pusey  remained,  and  Keble. 

This  year  gave  each  of  the  villages  a  new  vicar.  To 
Monksland  came  Cyril  Loaming,  a  young  Oxford 
alist;ltU"  man>  full  of  enthusiasm  for  vessels  and  vestments 
and  mediaeval  ritual.  The  recent  controversy  had 
called  attention  to  the  Church  of  Rome.  High  Churchmen 
had  attended  Roman  services  and  studied  Roman  service- 
books.  And  even  those  who  felt  no  desire  to  leave  the 
Church  of  their  baptism,  began  to  wish  to  bring  back  into 
their  Church  many  of  the  rites  and  ceremonies  which  had 


The  Ritualists. 


205 


been  banished  or  dropped  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation. 
For  some  years  Loaming’s  experiments  were  rather 
amateurish,  but  in  1857  Purchas’  “  Directorium  Anglica- 
num  ”  led  to  a  great  advance  in  the  ritual  movement.  It 
was  written  to  “put  the  Priest  of  the  nineteenth  century 
on  a  par  with  the  Priest  of  the  sixteenth  as  to  ritual  know¬ 
ledge.”  “  Ritual  and  ceremonial  are  the  hieroglyphics  of 
the  Catholic  religion,  a  language  understanded  of  the 
faithful,  a  kind  of  parable  in  action.”  “As  there  is  but 
one  Catholic  Church,  so  the  ritual  of  every  portion  there¬ 
of  will  have  a  family  likeness.”  “  Hence  this  attempt  to 
read  our  rubrics  by  the  light  of  the  pre-reformation 
service-books.”  Loaming  learnt  that, he  must  banish  his 
oak  Communion  Table,  and  erect  an  altar  with  a  slab 
“either  of  stone  or  marble.”  On  it  must  stand  a  cross 
and  two  altar  lights  “  of  pure  white  wax,”  except  on 
certain  occasions  when  they  are  to  be  “coloured  with 
gamboge.  ”  He  must  add  to  his  Church  wardrobe  an  alb, 
an  amice  and  a  cotta,  and  sets  of  chasubles,  copes,  mani¬ 
ples,  tunics  and  dalmatics,  varying  in  colour  with  the 
Church  seasons.  For  the  Holy  Communion  he  must  use 
only  wafer  bread  ;  common  baker’s  bread  is  “  unseemly  and 
irreverent.”  He  may  vary  the  colour  of  the  wine,  “white 
on  ferial  days,  red  on  festivals.”  He  learnt  what  Latin 
prayers  from  the  Sarum  Missal  he  should  secretly  inter¬ 
polate  into  the  Prayer-Book  Office,  and  what  attitude  lie 
and  his  servers  should  take  at  every  point  in  the  service. 
He  learnt,  too,  how  to  make  the  singing  of  the  Magnificat 
a  solemn  and  elaborate  rite,  during  which  he  and  little 
Dan,  the  ploughman’s  youngest  son,  did  mysterious  things 
with  a  censer  amid  clouds  of  incense.  He  learnt  how  to 
exorcise  salt,  and  make  with  it  Holy  Water  that  “  whatever 
is  touched  or  sprinkled  by  it  may  be  freed  from  all  un¬ 
cleanness.”  Services  in  Monksland  church  began  to  bear 
some  dim  and  faint  resemblance  to  the  services  that  had 
been  held  there  before  the  monks  were  driven  from  the 


20  6 


The  Higher  Criticism. 


Abbey,  but  with  this  great  difference.  In  those  days  the 
little  church  was  filled  with  villagers  on  Sunday.  Now 
the  majority  went  nowhere.  Some  went  to  the  Methodist 
chapel.  Only  a  few  were  laboriously  learning  to  find  in 
the  Catholic  ritual  some  real  expression  of  their  own  re¬ 
ligious  experience. 

Meanwhile  Durford,  too,  had  received  a  new  vicar.  John 
The  Fortescue  was  appointed  as  an  Evangelical,  but 
Higher  he  soon  began  to  call  himself  a  Broad  Churchman. 
Cnti-  in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century  many 
religious  men  passed  through  a  period  of  grave 
doubt  and  perplexity,  as  they  struggled  to  adjust  their 
old  creed  to  the  new  truths  revealed  by  science  and  the 
growth  of  secular  knowledge.  The  great  majority  of 
English  clergy  had  been  brought  up  to  believe  that  “  every 
word,  every  syllable,  every  letter  of  the  Bible  is  just  what 
it  would  be  had  God  spoken  from  heaven  without  any 
human  intervention.  Every  scientific  statement  is  in¬ 
fallibly  accurate.”1 2  “The  Bible  is  none  other  than  the 
Voice  of  Him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne.  Every  book  of 
it,  every  chapter  of  it,  every  verse  of  it,  every  word  of  it, 
every  syllable  of  it,  every  letter  of  it,  is  the  direct  utter¬ 
ance  of  the  Most  High.”  -  But  this  belief  was  now  being 
roughly  assailed  from  many  quarters.  In  foreign  uni¬ 
versities  Oriental  scholars  had  been  ruthlessly,  at  work, 
testing  the  date  of  the  various  books  of  the  Old  Testament 


by  the  same  critical  methods  which  others  were  applying 
to  the  “Rig  Veda”  or  the  Homeric  poems.  And  they 
had  arrived  at  some  very  startling  conclusions.  They 
declared  that  the  old  dates  were  almost  grotesquely  false  : 
that  the  Books  of  Moses,  the  Psalms  of  David,  and  the 
Proverbs  of  Solomon,  for  example,  were  written  cent¬ 
uries  after  the  death  of  the  heroes  whose  names  they  bear  ; 
that  the  greater  part  of  the  Old  Testament,  at  all  events 


1  Baylie’s  “  Verbal  Inspiration.” 

2  Dean  Burgon’s  “  Inspiration  and  Interpretation,”  1861. 


Scientific  Difficulties. 


20; 

in  its  present  form,  is  the  work  of  Jews  who  lived  after  the 
return  from  Babylon  ;  that  only  a  few  of  the  prophets  are 
earlier,  and  even  their  books  contain  many  later  inter¬ 
polations.1  Daring  and  reckless  pioneers  now  began  to 
introduce  these  new  ideas  into  England,  and  the  most 
headstrong  and  impetuous  of  all  was  Bishop  Colenso, 
who,  in  “  The  Pentateuch  Examined  ”  (1862),  challenged 
not  only  the  dates  of  the  books,  but  their  historical  value. 
Moses  was  “  a  personage  quite  as  shadowy  and  unhis- 
torical  as  our  own  King  Arthur.”  Joshua  “  appears  to  be 
entirely  a  mythical  character.”  “The  whole  of  the 
narrative  of  Ezra  and  much  of  Nehemiah  are  pure  in¬ 
ventions  of  the  chronicler.”  “  There  is  no  infallible  Book 
for  our  guidance,  as  there  is  no  infallible  Church.” 

Meanwhile  geology  and  botany  and  biology  and  many 
a  kindred  science  were  bemnnino-  to  make  con- 

■v  T  .  1  *0  *X> 

Science  fident  statements,  which  were  very  bewildering 
to  believers  in  the  Bible.  Ever  since  Sir  Charles 
Lyall  published  his  “Principles  of  Geology”  (1830),  his 
followers  had  grown  more  and  more  dogmatic  in  their 
assertions,  that  the  world  could  not  have  been  created  in 
seven  days.  They  pointed  to  the  white  cliffs  of  Dover, 
built  up  of  minute  shells  of  marine  organisms  at  the  rate 
of  an  inch  or  two  a  century  ;  they  pointed  to  the  buried 
forests  in  our  coal  fields,  and  protested  that  these  were 
facts,  which  it  was  impossible  to  square  with  the  first 
chapter  of  Genesis.  And  then  came  Charles  Darwin 
(1859)  with  his  startling  theory  that,  so  far  from  man 
being  created  on  the  sixth  day,  he  too  had  been  slowly 
evolved  through  incalculable  ages  from  an  ape,  a  fish,  a 
tiny  cell  in  some  putrescent  fungus.  Theologians  like 
Bishop  \\  ilberforce  rushed  into  the  fray,  and  were  badly 

1  It  is  not  the  place  of  this  book  to  discuss  the  complicated  question  as 
to  how  far  later  discussions  and  discoveries  have  confirmed  or  shaken  the 
conclusions  of  these  early  critics.  History  simply  has  to  record  that  at  this 
period  a  great  controversy  about  these  matters  suddenly  arose. 


208 


The  Twentieth  Century. 


beaten  on  the  unfamiliar  ground,  and  theology  and 
religion  had  to  suffer  the  discredit  of  their  defeat.  And 
many  a  puzzled  country  parson,  such  as  John  Fortescue, 
turned  from  theology  in  despair,  and  threw  himself 
heart  and  soul  into  plain,  practical  problems,  better  cot¬ 
tages  for  the  labourers,  night  schools,  lending  libraries  and 
allotments,  working  men’s  clubs,  poor  law  reform,  penny 
banks,  and  health  lectures,  all  good  and  useful  things, 
which  made  him  immensely  popular,  but  poor  substitutes 
for  that  Bread  of  Life  without  which  no  soul  can  live. 

But  this  crisis  passed  away,  as  many  another  had  done. 
When  John  English  became  Vicar  of  Durford  the  early 
panic  was  over.  He  had  faced  his  doubts  and  found 
answers  to  them  before  his  ordination.  He  handled  his 
Bible  in  a  way  rather  different  from  that  of  some  older 
men ;  he  did  not  expect  to  find  in  a  volume 
written  centuries  ago  all  the  latest  formulae  of 
modern  physical  science ;  but  it  was  to  him  still 
the  Word  of  God,  the  supreme  authority  on  all 
questions  of  religion.  Even  though  critics 
should  succeed  in  proving  that  Jewish  Rabbis  had  fixed 
wrong  dates  to  many  of  the  sacred  books,  even  though 
we  may  be  as  ignorant  of  the  author  of  Genesis  as  we 
are  of  the  author  of  Judges,  the  books  themselves  still 
remain  in  all  their  majesty  and  beauty,  a  medium  through 
which  God’s  people  will  ever  hear  His  Voice.  If  evolu¬ 
tionists  should  be  able  to  demonstrate  that  the  process 
by  which  God  “  formed  man  of  the  dust  of  the  ground  ” 
was  one  which  lasted  more  than  a  million  years,  they 
still  will  have  to  remember,  that  it  is  one  thing  to  trace 
the  stages  in  a  process,  another  to  explain  the  cause. 
The  majestic  words  remain  true  “  In  the  beginning  God 
created  the  Heaven  and  the  Earth.”  And  English  was 
able,  with  faith  unshaken,  to  take  up  his  work  of  seeking 
to  win  for  God  the  men  who  follow  the  plough.  From 


The 

Twen¬ 

tieth 

Cen¬ 

tury. 


The  Twentieth  Century  209 

the  Evangelical  Movement  he  has  inherited  a  sense  of 
the  importance  of  each  individual  soul,  of  the  worthless¬ 
ness  of  any  Churchmanship  that  is  not  based  on  personal 
religion  ;  from  the  Oxford  Movement  he  has  inherited  a 
sense  of  the  value  of  the  Church,  of  the  duty  of  each 
individual  to  take  his  appointed  place  within  the  great 
Brotherhood  founded  by  Christ  Himself ;  from  the  Broad 
Church  Movement  he  has  inherited  a  desire  to  face  facts 
fearlessly  and  frankly ;  and  his  work  is  not  in  vain. 
There  are  some  in  his  parish  who  hate  the  good  and  love 
the  evil ;  there  are  some  whose  profession  to  serve  God 
is  only  an  empty  sham  ;  but  so  there  have  been  in  every 
age  of  our  village  history.  The  Church  in  Durford  is  as 
strong  to-day  as  it  ever  has  been  in  the  past.  In  one 
sense  it  is  stronger.  The  Great  War  roused  the  Church 
to  make  its  constitution  democratic.  Parliament  was 
persuaded  to  give  churchmen  for  the  first  time  since  the 
Reformation  liberty  to  manage  their  own  affairs.  A  chain 
of  councils  was  created,  a  Parochial  Church  Council  for 
every  parish,  elected  by  all  members  of  the  Church  over 
eighteen  years  old,  a  Ruridecanal  Conference  for  every 
rural  deanery,  a  Diocesan  Conference  for  every  diocese, 
and  a  National  Church  Assembly  for  the  whole  of 
England.  No  longer  would  the  great  things  of  the 
Church  be  settled  by  a  secular  Parliament  containing  many 
non-Churchmen.  No  longer  would  the  little  things  be 
settled  round  the  family  tea-table  by  the  Vicar  and  his 
daughters.  All  matters,  both  great  and  small,  must  now 
be  discussed  by  the  elected  Councils.  Durford  voted  for 
its  first  Parochial  Church  Council  in  1921.  Hodge  the 
ploughman,  ex-sergeant  in  the  Royal  P'usiliers,  took  his 
seat  side  by  side  with  Sir  Cyril  de  Ouetivel,  the  Squire. 
But  the  problems  of  the  future  lie  far  from  the  old  Church 
of  St.  Nicholas,  in  the  great  cities  which  are  sucking  up 
all  the  younger  life  of  our  villages,  in  the  great  colonies 

14 


210 


The  Twentieth  Century 


beyond  the  seas  into  which  our  people  are  pouring.  And 
there,  too,  the  Church  goes  forward  to  her  appointed 
task,  strong  in  her  Master’s  promise,  “  Lo,  I  am  with  you 
alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  ages.” 


FINIS. 


INDEX. 


Admonition  to  Parliament ,  The ,  133. 
Aethelwold,  29,  30. 

Aidan,  St.,  18. 

Alban,  St.,  martyrdom,  5. 

—  relics  of,  31-34. 

—  abbey  of,  26,  33,  47,  48,  101. 
Alcuin,  24. 

Aldhelm,  24,  25. 

Alfred.  28. 

Allen,  Wm.,  Recusant  leader,  132; 
founds  Douai,  138;  appeals 
to  Jesuits,  139  ;  appeals  to 
Spain,  141 ;  made  Cardinal,  142. 
Alphege,  Archbishop,  34. 

Anselm,  Archbishop,  38,  3g. 

Appeals  to  Rome,  39,  54,  gg. 
Architecture,  Anglo-Saxon,  15. 

—  Decorated,  75. 

—  Early  English,  74. 

—  Norman,  37,  41,  73. 

—  Perpendicular,  76. 

Arles,  Council  of,  6. 

A.rmada,  The  Spanish.  142. 
Arminian  clergy,  152-15S. 

Arnold,  T.,  200,  201. 

Augustine,  St.,  12,  13,  15,  16. 

Ave  Maria,  The,  87. 

Ball,  John,  61,  62. 

Becket,  Archbishop,  42-47. 

Bede,  24. 

Benedict  Biscop,  24. 

Benedictines,  22,  28-30,  40,  102. 
Bible,  The  English  :  Wyclif,  67,  68  ; 
Tindale,  95-98;  Cranmer,  1x0; 
Geneva,  149 ;  Bishops’,  149 ; 
Douai,  150;  Authorized,  151. 
Bilney,  T.,  94,  95,  108. 

Black  Death,  59,  60,  75. 


Boniface,  24. 

Boughton,  Joan,  71. 

British  Church,  4-9,  15,  16. 

—  Paganism,  1-3. 

Caedmon,  24. 

Calvinism.  See  Puritanism. 

Campian,  140,  141. 

Canons,  28,  29. 

Cartwright,  T.,  132. 

Cedd,  18. 

Celtic  Paganism,  2. 

Chantries,  82;  abolished,  113. 

Church,  A  mediaeval,  82-86. 

Church  Ale,  80. 

Church  Missionary  Society,  197. 

Church  services  :  British,  4  ;  Anglo- 
Saxon,  34  ;  mediaeval,  S6-90  ; 
Elizabethan,  125-128  ;  under 
Directory,  162,  163. 

Churchwardens,  128,  135,  156. 

Cistercians,  40-42,  102. 

Clapham  Sect,  The,  197. 

Clerk,  The  parish,  80,  186,  200. 

Consubstantiation,  Doctrine  of,  94. 

Court  of  High  Commission,  135, 
155,  159,  175. 

Covenant,  The  Solemn  League  and, 
161. 

Cranmer,  T.  :  early  life,  10S  ;  Arch¬ 
bishop,  109;  Bible,  no;  Litany, 
no;  Prayer  Books,  114,  115 ; 
purging  of  churches,  113  ;  his 
challenge,  117;  his  death,  ng. 

Cuthbert,  22,  24. 

Darwin,  C.,  207. 

Declaration  of  Ecclesiastical  Discip¬ 
line,  The ,  134. 

* 


21 1 


14 


212 


Index 


Declaration  of  Indulgence.  Charles 
II,  174;  James  II,  177. 

De  Heretico  Comburendo,  70. 

Deists,  The,  1S5. 

Diocletian,  5. 

Directory  for  Publique  Worship , 
The ,  161-163. 

Divine  Right  of  Kings.  157,  15S. 
172,  173,  17S.  1S0,  181. 

Douai  Bible,  150,  151. 

—  College,  138. 

Dunstan,  Archbishop,  29,  30. 

Easter  Controversy,  15,  iS. 

Easter  Sepulchre.  85. 

Edward  the  Confessor,  35. 

Ethelbert.  11-13. 

Evangelical  Movement,  The,  191- 
•  197- 

Franciscan  Friars,  55-57,  61.  64. 
103. 

Germanus,  St.,  7,  32. 

Gregory,  Pope,  12.  13. 

Grosseteste,  Bishop,  56. 

Henry  VIII:  his  marriage,  gS.  99, 
10S ;  Supreme  Head,  99 ;  for¬ 
bids  doctrinal  changes,  107 ; 
makes  Cranmer  Archbishop, 
109 ;  death,  in. 

Hertford,  Synod  of.  19. 

Higher  Criticism,  206. 

Hock-tide,  So. 

Homilies.  Book  of.  125,  126. 

Hooker’s  Ecclesiastical  Politic ,  145- 
149. 

Huguenot  refugees.  175.  176. 

Hymn  singing.  193. 

Independents.  The,  r66. 

Interdict.  The,  50. 

Irish  missionaries,  17 

Jesuits.  139-141,  142.  173,  174 
176,  17S. 

Jewel’s  Apology ,  143. 

John,  King,  49-51. 


Keble,  J.,  201,  204. 

King's  Evil,  1-3. 

Lanfranc,!  37. 

Langton,  Stephen,  49.  51. 

Latimer,  H.,  94,  119. 

Latitudinarians,  172.  1S1,  1S2. 

Laud.  Wm. :  Arminian  Leader,  152  ; 
Archbishop.  152:  supports  Sun¬ 
day  sports,  153  ;  ritual  changes. 
154;  persecutes  Puritans,  155- 
157;  Divine  Right,  157;  arrest, 
159- 

Liberals,  The,  200,  201. 

Litany,  in  open  air,  no  :  in  church, 
1 14. 

Lollards,  The,  6S-72.  91-94. 

Marprelate  Tracts,  136,  137. 

Mary.  Queen.  116-120. 

Methodists,  190,  191. 

Miracle  Plays,  78,  79. 

Monasticism:  its  origin,  21:  Bene¬ 
dictine  Rule.  22 ;  a  Benedictine 
monastery,  22 ;  early  corrup¬ 
tions,  25,  26  ;  stamped  out  by 
Danes,  26,  27 ;  revived  under 
Dunstan.  29,  30;  the  Ci>ter- 
cians,  40-42  ;  monks  as  land- 
owners.  54  ;  dissolution  de¬ 
manded,  54.  64  ;  visitation.  100, 
101 ;  corruption.  101,  102 ;  dis¬ 
solution,  103,  104. 

Mortmain  Act,  ;,S. 

Napoleon,  19S. 

Newman,  J.  H.,  201,  202,  203,  204. 

Non- Jurors,  1S0,  1S1. 

Oates,  Titus.  174. 

Oldcastle.  Sir  John,  70. 

Ordeal,  35. 

Ornaments  Rubric,  121,  123.  124. 

Oxford  Movement,  201,  204. 

Palm  Sunday  sendees,  89. 

Parker.  Archbishop,  13 1. 

Parsons,  R.,  140,  141. 

Paternoster.  The,  86. 


Index 


213 


Paulinus,  17. 

Pax,  87,  122. 

Peasants’  revolt,  62,  63. 

Pelagianism,  6,  7. 

Pilgrimage,  32,  33,  47-49,  66,  105, 
173. 

Plough  Monday,  80. 

Pope,  The  :  sends  Augustine,  12  ; 
court  of  appeal,  39,  54  ;  asserts 
right  to  invest  bishops,  39 ; 
lays  England  under  interdict, 
49,  50  ;  overlord  of  England, 
50-52 ;  exactions  from  clergy, 
53.  58 1  appoints  to  benefices, 
53  ;  tribute  repudiated,  59  ; 
identified  with  Anti-Christ,  61, 
66  ;  his  authority  repudiated, 
gg  ;  prayer  for  deliverance  from 
his  detestable  enormities,  in  ; 
excommunicates  Elizabeth,  139. 

Praemunire,  Statute  of,  59. 

Prayer  Book,  The  :  First  of  Edward 
VI,  114;  Second  of  Edward  VI, 
115  ;  Elizabethan,  121  ;  James 

I,  147;  abolished,  163;  Charles 

II,  171. 

Provisors,  Statute  of,  58. 

Puritanism:  an  early  Puritan,  I2g  ; 
its  aims,  129,  130;  its  attack  on 
the  Church,  132-137;  Hooker’s 
answer,  144,  145;  under  James 
I,  147  ;  persecuted  by  Laud, 
I55'I57;  victorious,  161-163;  its 
failure,  164-171. 

p>'x,  84,  85,  122. 

Relic  worship,  31-34,  47-49,  105, 
106. 


Ritualists,  The,  204-206. 

Rogation  Days,  14,  go. 

Romanist  Recusants  :  withdraw  from 
church,  132  ;  literature,  137  ; 
missionary  priests,  138  ;  plots 
and  conspiracies,  13S-143,  146, 
173,  174- 

Savoy  Conference,  170. 

Sawtre,  W.,  70. 

Simeon,  C.,  193. 

Sunday  Schools,  195. 

—  services.  See  Church  Services. 

—  sports,  82,  86,  153. 

Surplice,  The,  115,  123,  124,  129, 
131.  134.  i62>  I7E  172. 

Swidbert,  24. 

Theodore  of  Tarsus,  ig. 

Tillotson,  Archbishop,  183. 

Tindale,  W.,  95-98,  109. 

Tonsure,  4,  15. 

Tractarian  Movement,  201-204. 

Tract  XC.,  203. 

Transubstantiation,  Doctrine  of,  66, 
79,85,87,89,90,  107;  attacked, 
66,  69,  71,  93,  94,  122,  144. 

Vestments,  4,  87,  115,  121,  123, 
124,  205. 

Walburga,  24. 

Wesley,  J.,  189-191. 

Whitby,  Conference  of,  18. 

Willibrord,  24. 

Witchcraft,  147-148. 

Wyclif,  J.,  63-68,  94,  95. 


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